


Conception Point

by cincoflex



Series: Strange Stories [1]
Category: Doctor Strange (2016)
Genre: F/M, Fake Marriage, Seattle, interdimensional hijinks, space baby
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-07-27 05:42:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 39,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7605862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cincoflex/pseuds/cincoflex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Storks don't bring babies, particularly from other dimensions. At least not without some help from the Sorcerer Supreme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally part of the Champions Forte Campaign in the Mid-Eighties. I've re-written it because it's a good story and Mr Cumberbatch is totally both Stephen Strange and daddy material.

_Sydney's diary_

_Monday, 6:30 AM—Kinda rainy_

_Had the weird dream AGAIN last night. Same as before--I was wandering around in some sort of night-time desert, but the sand was sort of silver and the sky was empty of anything—no stars or clouds or moon. I wasn’t exactly afraid, but I was feeling cautious. Something keeps calling me here, and that’s always kind of a reason to be cautious. I’ve been involved in too many bizarre schemes not to feel that sense of self-preservation kick in, even in a dream I guess._

_Anyway I heard the call again while I was wandering around, and when I looked up I saw a sort of dim little glow. Like Navi, that fairy thing that hangs around Link in the game Zelda. But this one doesn’t have wings, just a sort of glow and it’s young. I’m not sure how I can tell because it doesn’t exactly talk, but I always get the impression it is very little and scared. I always end up trying to soothe it and it responds to me, glowing a little brighter when I reach out to it. Poor little thing._

_When I woke up I realized I’d hardly slept, so I thought I’d at least write it down before heading out to work. Rain—just what a meteorologist loves to report on, especially to a city well-known for it, right? I hope nobody commits any crimes tonight because if this storm gets any stronger I’m going to be on-call for it. Here’s hoping Seattle is quiet._

\--oo00oo--

Once she’d made it through the building foyer, Sydney Todd checked her phone and breathed a sigh of relief; no messages no sign that it was going to be anything other than a quiet rainy night. She rode the elevator up to the seventh floor and let herself into her apartment, setting her umbrella down before flicking on the light.

Then she yelped.

Someone was sitting in her grandmother’s fancy armchair, clearly waiting for her. Instinctively Sydney shifted her stance, readying herself to act if necessary. She didn’t want to do anything unless she had to; the deposit on this place had been substantial and she did want it back if she ever moved. Nevertheless, unannounced visitors were usually trouble.

“Whoa, okay, who are you?” she asked, eyeing the man who was looking back at her with grave amusement as he steepled his fingers.

“Stephen Vincent Strange, Miss Todd. We need to talk.”

“Wait, who? The magician from New York?” Sydney blinked. She’d _heard_ of Doctor Strange, certainly. Her teammates had connections to almost all the heroes throughout the United States albeit tentative for the most part. At least they kept informed on them thanks to Jack’s media-oriented career and fanboy tendencies.

Strange looked slightly pained. “Sorcerer, actually. Magicians create illusions with no true basis in magic.”

She stared at him for a moment, taking in the elegant beard, streaks of white at his temples and deep-set eyes. He wore a grey three-piece suit, though, and Sydney noticed he even had a jaunty pocket square. 

“Sorcerer,” she amended. “I thought you had a cape, and more . . .” she waved a hand at him vaguely, “more bling.”

He looked even more pained. “This is an _informal_ visit and I thought it best not to overwhelm you.”

“Considerate,” she murmured. “I hope you won’t take it personally if I ask for some ID?”

Sighing, Strange waved his hand and a black leather wallet popped into existence a foot from her face, the flap of it lifting to reveal a driver’s license. Despite herself, she grinned.

“Oh that’s good,” Sydney nodded. “And I see even _you_ don’t take a good DMV photo.”

“There are some aspects of life not even _magic_ can overcome,” he replied a little testily even though one corner of his mouth went up fractionally.

“Fair enough,” Sydney agreed, watching as the wallet disappeared a moment later. “So why are you here? I mean I don’t even _know_ you, and my team is pretty much small potatoes compared to . . . well everyone, really. Not that we don’t do our share, but . . .” She realized she was running on and closed her mouth quickly, trying like hell not to feel intimidated.

“First, I would like a demonstration of _your_ powers,” he rumbled. “I’m fairly sure I have the correct Sydney Todd but verification would help.”

She sighed. “Which one? Because if I make it rain in here it’s going to soak the carpet, and the wind blast will take out a window for sure.”

“The spectral shift,” Strange told her, his voice soft.

Sydney blushed. “Ah, I need to go get into costume for that,” she apologized. “Otherwise I when I shift back, I’m sort of . . . under-dressed.”

He sighed and nodded. “I shall wait here.”

She hurried into the bedroom and grabbed the suit from behind the door, slipping into it as quickly as she could, feeling nervous and irritated at the same time. Fortunately it was clean. Sydney stepped out, took a breath, and shifted.

This part was fun, she thought. The first time she’d ever phased into the first dimension it had freaked her out, but now it was as easy to do as walking. Being able to pass through solid matter had been extremely useful at times. Doctor Buttermiller had designed the suit’s fabric with the tiniest of static charges—just enough to keep her clothed through any shift including a return to solidity.

Strange watched her transparent form walk towards him and cocked his head. “Can you go deeper?”

She nodded, her throat tight. “Yeah, but there are . . . there are _things_ out there that are dangerous.”

He nodded back. “Here be dragons,” Strange intoned. “Not just the physical sort either. Good. At least you’re aware of the perils that come with moving between universes and yes, apparently I do have the correct Sydney Todd. Come and sit, please.”

Sydney shifted back and did, lightly settling on the sofa across the coffee table from her visitor. Outside lightning flashed, glowing through her curtains, followed by the rumble of thunder. Rain. It always made her more powerful, and she flexed her fingers in response. “Okay, so what is this all about, Doctor?”

For the first time he looked distinctly uncomfortable, pursing his mouth as he looked at her. “It’s about the future, Miss Todd. And about a child in a dying dimension. A being of great potential who is destined to save _this_ planet.”

Sydney took a breath. “Okay, good. Now I’d like more specifics, please.”

He leaned forward quickly, holding her gaze. “Miss Todd, have you had an unusual dream lately and repeatedly? A dream of a barren astral plane and a small lost light?”

She felt a shiver rush over her skin. “Yes.”

“And in that dream did you find yourself drawn to it, wanting to give it succor?”

There was no point in lying. “Yes.”

Strange sighed. “I thought as much. I have had the same dream several nights running. As you’re aware, dreams are more than the average person realizes. Dreams can be a conduit for communication, particularly the sort that cannot be achieved in consciousness.”

She frowned. “So something is trying to reach out to both of us to . . . help it? Bring it to another dimension?”

“Yes,” Strange murmured, looking away. “That’s part of it. You and I are among a very few on this planet who can move through dimensions, can deal with the shift of our corporal bodies in different planes for extended periods of time.”

“So it’s a rescue mission,” Sydney persisted, aware that the man opposite her was suddenly tense. “Right?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Strange reluctantly admitted. “I have looked in the Orb of Agamotto to find out more about this entity who is reaching out to us and in our particular universe he or she will be one of Earth’s most powerful guardians, protecting the planet long after you and I are gone.”

“So we are going to be the ones to bring this guardian to our dimension?” It sounded like a hell of a mission, and Sydney bit her lip. “I don’t know . . . I’m pretty much a third-stringer, Doctor Strange, nowhere near as powerful as _you_ are or any of the other supers out there, really.”

“Call me Stephen,” he told her quietly. “And there are several reasons why _your_ . . . participation is necessary. You are adept at inter-dimensional phasing; you have experience fighting evil and you are . . . a woman within child-bearing age.”

Sydney froze as the implication hit her full-force. “What? I’m NOT having an inter-dimensional baby!”

Strange dropped his head into his hands. “I _knew_ this wouldn’t go over well. I knew it.”

“Oh you’re damned _right_ it isn’t!” Sydney blurted in outrage. “Look, I’d be more than happy to help rescue whoever this, this, spirit is, but I’m not giving birth to do it! There are _limits_ to heroism you know, and this is one of them!”

“I understand your reluctance,” Strange began, but Sydney leaned over the coffee table to glare at him.

“ _No_ , I don’t think you _do_ ,” she snapped. “It’s one thing to be able to pass through things, but to use that power to harbor one inside of me borders on the _worst_ sort of coercion. Why should I be an incubator for this creature? Because _you_ say so?”

“Because our child is going to _save_ the _world_ ,” Strange shot back dryly. “And although you may not believe it, I _scoured_ the planet for another candidate! However, the entity has already made a bond with you as well as me and that--”

“--OUR child? You’re not implying . . . oh God you _are_ , aren’t you? Because you’re inter-dimensional too, you’re . . . oh geez,” Sydney shot up, pacing away from the living room, her fists clenched. “Ohh, was NOT prepared for _that_. Yeah I think you can say this isn’t going well!”

_**S/T/O/P**_ echoed in her head and Sydney found herself frozen in place. 

Strange rose up from the armchair and came over to her, his eyes locked on hers. “I understand all of this is overwhelming, I _do_. And for the record I did what I _could_ to try and shift this burden to someone else but all my efforts in that direction have failed mostly because most shifters are predominantly male in our particular reality. Fathering an inter-dimensional child with a stranger isn’t exactly a quest I’m prepared for myself so I understand a percentage of your reluctance.”

He waved a hand and Sydney found herself free again; she shot him a glare.

“I apologize, but I did need you to hear me out. If you refuse—and you do have every right to do so—I will understand.”

Neither of them said anything for a few tense minutes.

She felt her jaw work a bit, and blinked. “If I—we— _don’t_ , then what happens? You _can_ see into the future, right?”

“I don’t _know_ what will happen,” he told her quietly. “There are always permutations and possibilities, Miss Todd, but there only seems to be one outcome I can view. All the others are dark to me.”

She shivered again. “Is there a . . . time limit?”

“Again, I’m not sure, but in every dream I’ve had of the entity I have sensed greater and greater urgency. And fear.”

Sydney nodded.

“Together we would be creating a physical form for this soul,” he murmured. “A body for a spirit who already exists in another plane, and because he or she would be _there_ at the point of conception, it would be its natural body, be both itself and a part of both of us. A huge responsibility since once here it would be . . . well, a baby.”

“A baby. And _I’d_ be raising it?”

“ _We_ would or _I_ would,” Strange told her. “I’m prepared to take the infant back with me to the Sanctum Sanctorum and care for it there.”

She shot him a skeptical look. “You.”

“I.”

“Have _you_ ever changed a diaper?” Sydney scoffed, watching Strange flinch a little.

“Not as such, but I’ve dealt with far _worse_ things wrapped in cloth. And I am not only capable of learning how, but also of hiring help.”

“Brother,” Sydney sighed. “There are _so_ many things wrong with that scenario. Look, it’s been a bit overwhelming and I’m coming off a long day as it is . . . Stephen. Just, let me get some rest and consider everything you’ve told me, all right? I’m not going to make a decision about this _tonight_.”

He dipped his head in acknowledgement. “I agree, it _is_ a lot to take in all at once and I apologize for delivering it this way but I do feel an urgency in regard to this . . . issue. You have my number on your phone now; I can be reached at any hour. Rest well, Miss Todd; I hope to speak to you again.”

He turned and three steps away disappeared into a pale vortex that closed up behind him. Sydney watched him go and when Strange had disappeared she slipped into her kitchen, desperately looking for a beer.

*** *** ***

_The Journal of Stephen Strange  
Waning quarter moon_

_Have just returned from Miss Todd’s abode in Seattle after delivering the particulars regarding the entity on the astral plane. She took the news far better than I thought she would in fact, and I hold hope that she may yet decide in favor of the venture. Not, I hasten to add out of any esteem towards me, but because it is for the benefit of the entity and the planet._

_She seems a very sensible woman and from what I have learned of her, that has been her hallmark with her associates and their service to Seattle. A young hero team, but dedicated, and destined for greater deeds I am sure. Whether she decides to share this undertaking with them will be up to her but I sense a degree of discretion within her makeup._

_Given what may come to pass, I decidedly appreciate that. While it’s possible my bachelorhood may be approaching an end, I am still by no means comfortable with the idea of impregnating a stranger. True she is comely, and I have no doubt that our mutual physical attraction will help facilitate matters, but there are obstacles nonetheless. _

_I have no idea if she currently has a significant other, although I suspect not. Miss Todd is also much younger than I am, a fact that both amuses and depresses me. Beyond this child, we may have nothing in common, and that might well make for a very bleak eighteen years as we raise our offspring._


	2. Chapter 2

The minute he closed his eyes, Strange found himself standing amid the remembered silvery sands. He looked around out of habit, putting his focus on his senses as he realized he wasn’t alone. Then again, he hadn’t expected to be either. This place was becoming familiar as was the little entity drifting closer.

“Still here,” he told the glow, offering a brief smile. “Good.”

It fluttered slightly and came closer, nearly pressing to his chest. Unaccustomed to giving comfort, Strange managed a little hum, feeling slightly foolish in doing so. His effort was appreciated though as the small light glowed brighter in response. Strange concentrated on being receptive.

_Save_ , came the soft cry. _Save._

Heartbreakingly simple and small. Strange hummed again, directing his thoughts to the entity.

_I will try. What do you fear?_

The little glow dimmed.

_Darkness._

Not just darkness, Strange realized, but a devouring darkness, a malevolence lurking just on the edges of this empty dimension. Something with malicious self-awareness.

_Courage,_ Strange told the entity as gently as he could. _We will help you as soon as we can._

The light pressed once more against him and although he knew it wasn’t possible, Strange sensed warmth. Reluctantly he allowed himself to rise again to consciousness, leaving behind the empty plane and the small light there.

As he opened his eyes, Strange gave a sigh and rubbed his temples. He understood the risk of deepening the bond with the entity. The weight of his promise lay heavily on him.

His only hope now was that Miss Todd felt the same bond. Hers, he realized might be even deeper given her maternal instinct. Strange rose and made his way out of his bedroom down into the living room of the Sanctum Sanctorum. Wong was already approaching him looking concerned.

“Sir?”

“No change yet,” he told him, “and not a lot of time left. It’s still a waiting game at the moment.”

Wong looked thoughtful. “It has been nearly a week. Should Miss Todd agree, what would be the next step? Will she come _here_ for the duration of her pregnancy?”

Strange looked around as if seeing his home for the first time, and the enormity of his occult collection made him pause. The very idea of trying to . . . baby-proof the Sanctum Sanctorum struck him as faintly absurd. “I somehow doubt it,” he finally murmured, visions of a toddler trying to chew on one of the grimoires or spilling potion bottles everywhere. “She seems to be very established in Seattle.”

“Is it . . . safe?” Wong wanted to know.

“Safer than New York, I think. Seattle is off the beaten path and that fact may give us an extra degree of . . . sanctuary.”

“So you are planning to go _there_ ,” Wong clarified. He didn’t smile but the lightness of his tone made Strange look at him.

“If necessary. Is that amusing?”

“Honestly? Yes, a bit,” Wong told him. “Generally you are set in your ways in the matters of creature comforts, so this is quite the sacrifice on your part.”

“Necessary,” Strange repeated, hoping the emphasis made him feel less cranky.

“As you say, sir.”

 

He spent the rest of the day dealing with arcane but small matters, doing his best to keep from brooding. It was a natural tendency for Strange even before his elevation to Sorcerer Supreme, and still tended to rob him of concentration if he let it. Deliberately, he practiced mindfulness and did his best to ignore his quiet phone.

Later, he considered the moon, aware that the darkest part of the cycle had nearly begun, and that obscurity would aid the evil that moved on the barren plane. Strange took a moment to look up fertility lore, aware that much would depend on Miss Todd’s own cycle as well. Most women seemed to bleed at the new moon, coming back into fertility with the return of the light of the full. At this rate, they would have two weeks before the first . . . attempts would have to start.

A poor euphemism but Strange refused to call it otherwise, well-aware that sex was at the moment precisely that: sex. A physical act necessary to create a physical form. He understood the truth, despite a few persistent lusts and doubts that plagued his underthoughts. Matters might have been easier if he had Clea as his lover, but he was quite alone in _this_ particular reality and Strange accepted that. 

He’d seen other of his lives in other dimensions but only fleetingly; that sort of voyeurism and preoccupation helped no-one, least of all his current self. Better to focus on the immediate world and do what he could to preserve it. After all this life wasn’t a _bad_ one. 

Just after midnight, his phone rang. Strange picked it up, striving for calm. “Yes?”

Miss Todd’s voice. “What’s _after_ the baby?” she sounded panicked.

“A monster,” he told her. “Formless but malevolent.”

“Why isn’t there anyone _else_ there? Any other beings?” her breath hitched and Strange realized she was crying or _had_ been crying.

“I suspect they have all been . . . devoured,” came his reply. “Miss Todd—allow me to come to you. You seem distraught.”

“Sydney,” she mumbled back. “Yes. It’s been a hell of a nightmare.”

He pocketed the phone, concentrated, and materialized in her apartment once more.

She was curled into a tight ball of misery at one end of the sofa, and in the light of the single lamp he realized she was in an oversized Seattle Seahawks jersey and little else. Her toenail polish was a light pink.

Moving carefully he sat on the sofa next to her. “Are you all right?”  
Ridiculous thing to ask since she clearly wasn’t, but Strange felt the need to say something.”

“The baby is crying,” she told him, rubbing her face with one hand. “And I can’t _do_ anything! It’s little and scared and I just feel so fucking _helpless_!”

“I know,” he rumbled. She scooted closer to him, hesitating for a moment, and then leaned against his shoulder. Strange let her, glad of the warmth.

“Listen, I never thought about kids,” she confessed. “That is, about having any. I _like_ them but my own mom was a drunk who liked to backhand me so I didn’t learn a lot about being a good parent growing up. Hell, I still have trouble being a good _adult_ most of the time, Stephen. But this baby . . . it hurts.”

“It does,” he agreed dully. “I myself am not particularly paternal, but there is something about this innocent and its plight that touches me deeply as well.”

They said nothing for a while, sitting in the semi-darkness, sharing a sense of comfort.

Finally she drew in a deep breath, her voice steadier. “ _Damn_ it. So . . . I’m in. That is, I’m willing to do this, because I can’t watch that baby die. Not if I can do something to change that.”

He turned to look at her. “Are you sure? This is a life-altering endeavor, Sydney, for _both_ of us.”

She nodded tiredly. “I’m sure. I’ve spend most of this week weighing the pros and cons, trying to figure out all the logistics and financials and things.”

“Do not worry about the finances,” Strange told her firmly. “I will take _full_ responsibility for those.”

“Good,” she sighed. “I appreciate that. I’ve got maternity benefits but not a lot of savings at the moment. Channel Seven isn’t exactly the top of the market around here.”

“They undervalue you,” he murmured. “Since you are willing to conceive and bear our child, the first priority is to make sure you are physically fit for it.”

“Okay,” she agreed. “I can make an appointment but it may not be soon.”

“I have an associate who will see you tomorrow,” Strange told her gently. “Discreet as well. Where are you in your cycle?”

She went pink, blinking. “Ah, I’m just about to start. Probably one of the reasons I’m so . . . emotional I guess.”

“A perfectly normal response to the stress,” he assured her. “That will give us a little bit more than two weeks before we can . . . .” Strange trailed off, embarrassed for the first time.

Sydney laughed, rolling her eyes. “Before we can become friends with benefits I suppose. It’s okay, it’s awkward for me too, but we’re doing it for the baby so it’s the right thing.”

“Yes,” Strange agreed. “And I am grateful that you have agreed to do this, Sydney. It is a tremendous sacrifice for good.”

“Something like that,” she smiled. “Um, I hope you won’t take this the wrong way but I’d like to keep our reasons for this conception under wraps? It’s kind of a bizarre situation as it is and explaining it would get even more . . . complicated.”

“I concur,” Strange rubbed his bearded chin. “I take it you have no romantic attachments at this time?”

“Nope. I sent Dominic packing with no hard feelings a while ago. Nice guy but . . . um, I won’t be cramping _your_ personal life, will I?” she asked uncertainly.

“No,” He replied. “I am on my own.”

She looked as if she didn’t quite believe him, but finally nodded. “O-kay. If anybody told me I’d be agreeing to be a baby-mama for a will ‘o the wisp and have it happen with one of the A-listers of the East Coast I would have laughed them right out of the bar. But,” she shrugged. “Life gets weird, I guess.”

“You have no _idea_ ,” Strange assured her, finally managing a little smile of his own. “All right then. If you are agreed, then we can go and at the very least bring the entity into our dimension.”

“How?” Sydney asked.

“I’ll show you,” he told her, reaching for her hand. “Now.”

“ . . . Wait!”

They disappeared together.


	3. Chapter 3

The desert glittered underfoot and the empty horizon was as dark as ever but Sydney had more immediate concerns as she dropped Strange’s hand and spun away from him. “Damn it! You could have at _least_ let me get into my suit!”

She felt ridiculous standing there trying to cover herself; he was going to see her naked eventually, she reasoned. Still, this sort of embarrassment didn’t help. Looking over her shoulder she saw him quickly undoing the buttons of his dress shirt, looking a bit mortified himself. He peeled it off and handed it to her, looking surprisingly good bare-chested.

Taking the shirt Sydney slipped it on, doing up the buttons. “Is this going to make it back with us?”

“I’m fairly sure it will,” Strange told her. “I apologize for . . .”

She waved it off as she turned around, pushing the sleeves up. “S’okay. _This_ time.”

But he was already looking up into the skies. “Do you sense the entity?”

Sydney looked around, staring. “Not yet.”

“Keep looking,” Strange told her. 

They stood, each peering in a different direction but the skies remained dark above them. Sydney held her breath, feeling a sense of panic starting to rise in her chest. She let her gaze drop . . . and spotted the little glow hovering around knee-height. “Here,” she murmured.

Strange turned and squatted, studying the faint light. “Very weak.”

“Shit,” Sydney muttered bleakly. “Are we too late?”

Strange shot her a compassionate look. “No. Step on the other side of it and take my hands.”

Doing as directed, Sydney squatted down as well, her hair hanging down as she took Strange’s hands. Their grip encircled the entity, which struggled to rise, glowing a little brighter.

_Save?_ came its exhausted whisper.

“Yes, sweetie,” Sydney responded.

Strange murmured something and as the entity fluttered up, he and Sydney rose as well so that the glow was about chest-height between them now.

She wasn’t prepared when he yanked her to him, _hard_ , pressing, squeezing the entity between them. It flared up and then Sydney felt it slip into her, the glow a warmth flushing through her body. When she stared at Strange’s face she saw him experiencing the same thing, his expression unexpectedly tender.

_Damn. He will be a good father_, she thought faintly, aware of how close his mouth was to hers.

Sydney kissed him even as they popped out of the dimension and back into her living room. The kiss faded and firmed again when they arrived; a surprising sensation that made her smirk as she pulled back.

His startled look added to her mirth. “I just . . . felt like doing that,” she told him.

“I . . . thank you,” Strange murmured, simply looking at her for a moment before collecting his thoughts. She felt pleased to have ruffled his demeanor a bit, but they had a more pressing issue at the moment, so she let go of him reluctantly.

“So . . . the baby?”

“Yes, the unformed entity is now within us,” he told her. “Half of it residing in each of us, safe for the moment and regaining strength, I think.”

Experimentally Sydney patted her abdomen through the dress shirt. “I don’t really feel it.”

“I don’t think you shall for a while; it’s quite weak but being safely harbored will allow it to recover,” Strange told her. “In the meantime . . . he picked up her Seahawks jersey and panties, handing them to her without meeting her eyes. 

Sydney took them and darted into the bedroom, caught between inappropriate giggling and acute embarrassment. She chalked it up to relief that the entity was now safe—at least for a while, and changed clothes, taking a deep back-in-control breath before going back to the living room.

Strange was studying her bookcase, and when she handed him his shirt he slipped it on. “Why meteorology?”

“Hydrometerology, actually,” she corrected. “Weather and water always fascinated me as a kid, even before I . . . gained powers related to them.”

“Predestined,” Strange murmured, arching an eyebrow at her. “Your affinity may have enhanced their development.”

“Possibly. I think it was an accident myself, but the good sort. I like what I can do.”

He nodded, finishing the last button at his collar as he turned away from the books. “Good is an apt description and given what you’ve done tonight, a truth as well.”

Sydney watched him do his cuffs next, amused at his fastidiousness. “So I have the day off tomorrow. I guess I’ll do some . . . shopping,” she told him, feeling the awkwardness return. “For vitamins and stuff. Start looking into daycare.”

Strange blinked. “Daycare?”

“Well yeah. If we don’t sign up now we’ll probably never get into the better ones. Most have at least a year-long waiting list, and require deposits. I only know that because Renata at the station went on a diatribe about it during lunch,” Sydney shrugged. 

“Our child is _not_ going to be raised by minimum wage employees with little more than a high-school degree, Sydney. The very idea is ridiculous,” Strange replied, his brows drawing together.

She bristled. “Really? Some of us have to _work_ for a living.”

“I’ve already said that _I_ will take care of the finances,” he reminded her a little testily. 

“Yes, for the _baby_ ,” Sydney shot back. “I’ve been earning my own keep since I was fifteen and I don’t intend to stop now.”

“Perhaps you might consider a sabbatical,” Strange countered delicately, moving closer to her. “If you’ve been working for as long as that then a change of focus would be . . . beneficial. It’s certainly not charity if that is what bothers you.”

She paused, aware of a blend of emotions within her: relief, frustration and attraction all being filtered through honest fatigue. “Maybe,” Sydney finally sighed. “Look, you and I don’t even really know each other. I think if we’re going to end up as parents that maybe we ought to spend some time together before we . . .”

Strange pursed his mouth. “Sensible,” he rumbled. “Eminently so. What time are you setting out?”

“Ten or so. The farmer’s market, then maybe Mysterious Book Store and one of the coffee places.”

“If you wouldn’t mind company, I’d . . . enjoy going with you.”

Sydney nodded, and caught herself as she yawned. Strange’s mouth twisted in a small smirk; he stepped behind her, dropping his hands on her shoulders and steering her towards her bedroom.

“We’ve already been up half the night and done a good deed in that time. Sleep, Sydney Lenore Todd, and I will return tomorrow.”

He stood in the doorway, watching her climb back into bed, and slowly faded from view as she settled herself under the covers. When he was gone she rolled over and dropped a hand on her stomach.  
“Hey you,” she whispered. “Just a heads up; your future father is sort of bossy but we’ll fix that.”

\--oo00oo—

The Sugar Brothers Farmer’s Market took up nearly four blocks of the street, but some of the stands were still setting up when Sydney parked her car. She looked over at Strange, who wore a tweed flat cap, a black turtleneck and dark slacks.

“Gee, if you had a long striped scarf you’d look like you were straight out of the Village,” she told him dryly.

“Bite your tongue; I’d never rank as low as a six,” he replied, making her laugh. They got out and walked towards the market together.

“What are you purchasing?” Strange wanted to know.

“Whatever looks good,” Sydney told him. “Something in the vegetable category, something in the fruit category and fresh juice. Sometimes I get eggs if they have any, although the last time I did, I got called away to deal with a bank robbery and they sort of spoiled in the back seat.”

“Casualties in the never-ending struggle against evil,” he mock-sympathized. “It can be difficult.”

“Never mock me about food,” Sydney warned. “Especially over _lost_ food. I get touchy about that.”

“Noted,” he flashed her a quick smile.

They wandered from stand to stand examining the produce and debating the merits of the same. Sydney found her attention divided between the foodstuffs, and the man next to her. She kept shooting sidelong glances at him, studying Strange as he stopped to examine a head of broccoli or chat with a vendor.

Older, but that had its attractions too, she admitted to herself. Handsome in a somewhat stern fashion, but well-groomed and certainly educated. He also had a nicely dry sense of humor that could use some practice, Sydney thought. 

Guiltily she wondered what he would be like as a lover, and tried to quash that darkly exciting thought as soon as it came to mind, even though a pang of desire flared between her hips. Sydney busied herself with green beans to counter it.

She’d know soon enough, she reasoned, although finding out would be interesting. What little information she’d managed to glean from Jack hadn’t told her much more than she already knew about Strange.

“Soooo tell me about yourself,” she finally sighed when she caught up to him at the end of the market, where he was holding a stray kitten. The little cat was determined to snag its way up Strange’s sweater and he let it, allowing it to reach his shoulder in feline triumph.

“I was an arrogant surgeon who lost everything,” he admitted easily. “An accident destroyed my fine motor skills, and because I’d been an insufferable prick up to that point, I had no-one who cared. Well, _nearly_ no-one,” he amended.

Sydney reached up to pet the kitten, which was torn between permitting it and looking lordly. It gave in and began purring. “Okay. And now?”

“I’m still arrogant,” Strange assured her, “bordering on insufferable at times according to many, but . . . I have mastered some compassion and a minuscule amount of humility since my training in the mystical arts. Oh, and I’m rather a cat person.”

“So I see.”

“Not the information you were looking for, was it?” he looked at her, one corner of his mouth going up. 

Sydney chuckled. “Not quite, but it helps. I was looking for more . . . generalities I guess. Favorite color, foods you like, previous . . . relationships. The stuff people share when they’re starting to bond.”

“Hmmm,” Strange unhooked the kitten from his shoulder and stroked it lightly; it purred, relaxing in his elegant hands. “Moss green; smoked salmon and vichyssoise; Madeline Revell.”

Sydney looked at him and he set the kitten down. It circled him twice and sauntered off before Strange met her gaze mildly. “She and I were engaged many many years ago but she broke it off. And in this reality there is no-one else.”

That phrase made Sydney sigh. “This is the _only_ reality I can deal with right now.”


	4. Chapter 4

_The Journal of Stephen Strange_

_First night of the new moon_

_Have spent the better part of the day with Miss Todd—Sydney—and found it refreshing. Seattle reminds me of part of upstate in fact, and spending more time there will be easier because of it.  
We visited a farmer’s market and then a bookstore that I found to be tinged with magic. Given its name, I should not have been surprised, but it was unexpected. I doubt the owner is aware of which tomes hold a touch of power but there are several and I intend to purchase them on some return visit. Sydney bought a book on pregnancy and I will add that it pleased me to learn that she is an avid reader: that at least is a point of commonality. _

_Later we bought coffee, which is apparently some sort of legal requirement in Seattle, but at least the particular brand we had was fairly good. Sydney spoke of herself, glossing over an abusive childhood before speaking in lighter terms about her life in Seattle and her team mates. There is much good in her, and much potential. I understand why the entity was drawn to her strong spirit and open heart. They are increasingly rare qualities in this jaded day and age._

_I confess that I was tempted to look into her thoughts at one or two points in the day, but refrained from doing so as a point of honesty. Whatever she fears or fancies I will discover through other methods in the process of our peculiar courtship. It is one, in fact. I could not bed any woman, particularly this young woman without some degree of wooing given what must take place within a fortnight._

_And I DO desire her. Despite all the trappings of magic and sorcery, I remain a flesh and blood man under it all, as driven by urges of the body as anyone else. Her kiss of the night before lingers in my memory, a teasing reminder of that._

_Foolish, but true._

\--oo00oo—

Two more days passed. Even across the span of the continent he sensed her low ebb, the flow of her menses sapping her energies. On a whim Strange brought her salted chocolate one evening and she nearly wept.

“Okay, this is just uncanny,” she mumbled through a mouthful. “I know it’s very cliché to have cravings, but wow.”

“Biochemistry at its finest,” he murmured. 

She lay on the sofa, curled on her side, an old-fashioned hot water bottle against her abdomen and he noted that her pajamas had little penguins on them. Sydney spotted his gaze and sighed.

“I used to use a heating pad but hot water works better for me,” she told him. “I hope this isn’t hurting the baby.”

“I doubt it. My half is . . . hibernating,” Strange told her. “I can sense it sleeping if I concentrate. It’s stronger, however, which is a good sign. Sydney, I think I can help, if you will permit me.”

She gave him a wary look. “I’ve heard the line about sex being good for cramps. It’s not true you know.”

“Not that,” he replied, slightly startled. “Just . . . a few pressure points to your lower back that may alleviate some of the pain.”

“Go for it,” she sighed, and rolled to face the back of the sofa. Strange pulled the coffee table up and sat on it, lightly running a hand up her back, feeling the little knobs of her spine though her tank top as she curled away from him.

Splaying his hands above her hips, Strange sent warmth through her skin and down to the tense muscles there, manipulating points of heat along the tight fibers. Slow pressure helped too, and a few moments later she gave a deep, pleased sigh. “Ohhhhhh . . .”

Smiling briefly to himself, Strange slid one hand up her back, lightening the warmth, dragging it up and to her shoulders where he let it soothe the tension in her shoulder blades one at a time.

“Wow. Between the chocolate and the massage, I’m pretty much yours,” came her contented sigh. “Sooooo much better.”

“You don’t need more pain,” he murmured softly, catching sight of a small round burn scar on the back of her shoulder and frowning. “Relax.”

“I am,” Sydney told him, “much better.”

As he pulled back, part of his hand brushed the dimples at the base of her spine, and Strange wondered what it would be like to kiss them. Shaking the sensual thought off, he left the heat to linger and pulled his hands back, flexing them a little. “That should last a while,” he murmured to her.

“Thank you so much,” Sydney replied, looking over her shoulder at him. “You have a nice touch.”

He gave a bittersweet smile. “I was noted for it, once.”

She held his gaze and after a few moments added, “we need a make-out session.”

He wasn’t sure he heard her correctly. “I beg your pardon?”

“You know, a long stretch of kissing,” Sydney was definitely pink in the face but earnest. “I think part of our problem is that we’re still kind of hands-off and that’s going to make it even more awkward when we have to make love.”

“You never fail to astound me with your . . . pragmatism,” Strange muttered, aware that his face was hot. 

She rolled to face him, blowing her bangs with a chuff of breath. “I do sort of speak my mind, but in this case it makes sense. In real relationships that’s how it goes, right? People meet up and after a few dates they start allowing their physical attraction to uh, manifest itself. At least, that’s the theory.”

“Do you have any idea how _long_ it’s been since I . . . never mind,” Strange shook his head.

Sydney’s eyes twinkled. “How long it’s been since?” she prompted.

“Since I’ve dated?” Strange finally finished. “Woman, I am one of the guardians of this dimension. I spend my days refining my occult knowledge and defending humanity from astral demons and monsters.”

“Which means you’re probably overdue for some necking,” Sydney pointed out. “All your credentials are impressive but you’re a man too, and _that’s_ who I need to trust.”

They looked at each other, and Strange felt a surge of genuine affection as he managed a smile. “How did you get so wise beyond your years?”

“Hard living,” Sydney snorted. She reached out a hand to him, letting her fingers interlace with his, her cooler touch against the fading warmth of his. “All right then, when’s a good time for you?”

_Immediately_ came to mind, but he pushed that aside and considered. “Today is Thursday, so Saturday would begin the shift of the moon to waxing, and give you time to rest. Would you prefer a restaurant here or in New York for dinner?”

“Ooooh, dinner too,” Sydney chuckled. “Wow, you _are_ a gentleman. Well the Skycity at the top of the Space Needle is always nice if you’ve never been there, and I can show you the dent in the sidewalk one of my teammates left when he fell. He survived so it’s kind of a local landmark now.”

“Delightful,” Strange told her, fighting a smirk. “Seven o’clock?”

“I’ll get us reservations,” she assured him.

Strange rose from the coffee table and bent to her, lightly brushing his lips to hers in the barest hint of a kiss. “Until Saturday then.”

Her lashes fluttered and he sensed a surge of heat from her. “Yes. And thank you.”

Giving a nod Strange slipped away through the vortex, feeling unexpectedly pleased.

\--oo00oo--

The restaurant had been a pleasant surprise, he acknowledged. While Seattle wasn’t nearly the metropolis that New York was, the panorama, particularly after dark, was beautiful, and Strange had enjoyed having Sydney point out various landmarks as they had dinner. Certainly she knew her city well despite fog obscuring parts of it.

Her dress worried him. It clung to her, and while the neckline wasn’t exactly plunging it had enough of a drop to frame her cleavage in a pleasantly distracting way. Strange suspected it was deliberate, although whether it was an enticement or bold confidence was still debatable. Either way he certainly enjoyed the display.

Their dinner conversation meandered from books through philosophy, travel and music until the lull as their waiter finally brought them the check wallet, setting it before Strange with a little flourish. Sydney gave him a look he was beginning to recognize as indicative of a stubborn statement coming on. He sighed.

“No,” he told her gently. “While I appreciate your independence and self-sufficiency, I can be obstinate too. Your city, your dining choice; _my_ treat.”

“Thank you,” she told him, looking a little chagrined at his mild tone. “It’s . . . hard for me to be gracious.”

“As with all things, practice helps,” he told her with just enough lightness to make her smile in wry response.

When they reached her apartment building Sydney turned to look at him, her gaze ever so slightly predatory. “Maybe _here’s_ where I start,” she told him as she stepped into the elevator. Strange followed her, feeling a flare of heat under his stomach at her tone. She poked the button for the seventh floor and turned to him as the car rose, eyes bright. 

“Yes, I’m nervous,” she admitted. “But ready.”

Those echoed his own thoughts, and Strange reached for her, pulling her closer. He brought his face close to hers and whispered. “I can see _right_ down your décolleté from this angle.”

Sydney spluttered into giggles, lightly pushing his chest with one hand as the elevator slowed to a stop. Still smiling she moved to her door, trying to fish out her key but Strange touched the knob and every lock clicked open at the same time. 

This made her laugh again and she stepped inside, setting her clutch down. Strange followed her in, aware that she hadn’t turned on the lights, and that the glow of the other buildings shone through the curtains. She reached up and touched the edge of his goatee with two gentle fingers, stroking it to the corner of his mouth.

“I’d like to kiss you,” Sydney told him. “And not think about anything but enjoying it.”

“My pleasure,” he rumbled back, aware of a sweet edge to this moment, as if everything they were had been left behind them in the elevator or along the wet roads and all that stood here in the semi-darkness existed on senses alone.

“Just . . . this . . .” Sydney reaffirmed, and tipped her face to him, reaching to meet his lips as he lowered them to hers ever so gently.

Her mouth was tenderly soft, yielding to his after a heartbeat, and the velvet tip of her tongue slid against his, making him groan a bit. Responses that had been dormant for far too long were flaring now, and Strange’s arms encircled her frame, drawing her closer as he deepened the kiss.

Sydney fit nicely against him. The press of their hips held heat, and Strange took his time shifting from one kiss to another, savoring the taste of her mouth. When she broke for a breath, her purr quickened his pulse. “Yes,” she told him. “Verrrry nice.”

“Mmmmmm,” was all he could manage because she had sucked his lower lip into her mouth and nibbled it. A sweet frisson of sheer lust raced through him and his grip around her tightened.

She laughed, but Strange cut it off with another kiss, this one definitely more demanding. Sydney melted, yielding to him breathlessly. In that single heartbeat their intensity rose, and Strange found himself entangled by kisses that ranged from savage to sweet. The brush of his goatee along her neck made her roll her hips against him; a soft bite to her throat left her shuddering hard; and when he dropped his hands to cup the firm globes of her ass, Sydney gave a moan that went straight to his heavy prick.

“Sssssssofa,” she hissed at him, her hair looking tousled in the dim light, pulling him along.

He dropped onto it and Sydney climbed to straddle his lap, her fingers raking his silvered temples as she dropped another blistering kiss on his mouth. The sudden warm weight of her on his lap at precisely the right moment left Strange biting back a pleasured groan.

_Damned good_ , he thought hazily, and it was his last conscious thought for a while as they continued their slick kisses. Gradually Strange turned his attention to the neckline that had taunted him most of the evening, sliding a hand up to cup one of Sydney’s breasts.

She gave a strangled squeak, which sounded adorable. Strange lightly kissed the lovely hollow at the base of her throat, aware of her flush, and his thumb rubbed over the stiff rise of her nipple through the thin material. Sydney wriggled, an action that he appreciated greatly.

He repeated it, bringing his other hand up, slowly flicking and rubbing the tips of her breasts until she began grinding hard against him, her kiss ragged through little gasps of pleasure. Within minutes she shuddered against Strange, whimpering. Outside, a sudden boom of thunder rolled through the skies.

“Ohhhhh God,” Sydney sighed, slumping against him. “I’m sorry!”

Strange laughed. “For what?” he asked, slipping a hand from her chest to cup the side of her face. “That was both lovely and gratifying to do. The atmospheric discharge was simply . . . a bonus.”

She chuckled a little as well. “On my honor I had _no_ idea that was going to happen. It never has before.”

Strange couldn’t help a smirk. “I’m honored.”

“You’re _also_ . . .” before he could move or object, Sydney shifted, sliding a hand into his trousers, her palm cupping his turgid length. Her fingers slipped around him as best they could and she began a stroking squeeze.

It was deliciously rough and he’d already been on edge for so long that within moments Strange rocked his hips up against her grip, hot surges pulsing heavily against her hand, seeping everywhere. He growled in pleasure, one hand around her waist, the other tangled her dark hair.

Sydney kissed his neck, working her way up along the side until her lips were near his ear. “So . . . you have one of those cleaning-up spells, right?”

He snorted very softly. “That’s Harry Potter. The only fix for _this_ mortifying situation is a damp washcloth, my dear.”

She giggled.


	5. Chapter 5

_Sunday 10:34 am--Clear but windy._

_Oh man I am in so much trouble. The very good kind, the kind I didn’t think I’d ever run into anytime soon. Strange trouble. Bad joke I guess but brother it fits. Stephen Strange is not only a gentleman, he’s also got some skills that didn’t come from Tibet, that’s for sure. (No slam on Tibet, but I kind of doubt anyone there taught him how to get a woman off by breast-play alone.)_

__

No, I think my trouble isn’t going to be making love to him to help give our entity/baby a corporeal body, but in stopping once the baby’s conceived because I know I could get to like what the sorcerer supreme has in his boxers. Annnd now I sound like some sex-crazed idiot but that just goes to show you what a good make-out session will do for a girl. 

__

Thank God he seemed to enjoy it too, if I can go by the mild beard burn I’ve got on my chest today. If it hadn’t been for the fact that he had some conference to attend in the morning I probably could have talked Stephen into staying the night, but after we cleaned up and cuddled a bit he reluctantly left, promising to return as soon as he could. 

__

Got some of the best sleep I’ve had in a while—between the orgasm and not dreaming about the desert dimension I didn’t wake up until about an hour ago. Took a moment to see if I could sense my half of the baby and it was waaaaay in the back of my concentration, sleeping softly. 

__

So I’m going to go in, run the Doppler reports and set up the feed for the on-air talent, take care of the fishing and sailing information but first, I’ve got to go see about this appointment with the specialist. 

Doctor Mayfair was a thin elderly woman with hair like a dandelion puff. She did the intake on Sydney herself in her sleek practice in downtown, checking over in a way that was both thorough and gentle.

“You seem to be in very good shape, Miss Todd, and I daresay you’re more than capable of conceiving a child,” Doctor Mayfair murmured. “Is there anything you know of that might be an issue?”

Sydney hesitated, but this was the time to speak up, so she did. “I have . . . mutant abilities.”

“I see.” Completely unfazed, Doctor Mayfair nodded. “Are they under your conscious control, or do they manifest under stress conditions?”

“I can control them,” Sydney replied, trying _not_ to think of the thunder of the previous night that had alerted most of downtown Seattle about her orgasm.

“Good. Are any of them related to your reproductive organs?” At Sydney’s shocked look Doctor Mayfair sighed. “Sorry. I’ve been a friend of Stephen Strange for a long time and it’s fair to say I’m well-aware of the unusual aspects of medicine thanks to him.”

“Ah, okay. No, I’m . . . the Mist.”

Doctor Mayfair perked up. “Oh! One of the locals! Yes, I remember when your team stopped that runaway van! Gracious, how exciting!”

“We did pretty well that time,” Sydney replied modestly. It still amused her how supportive her city was for the team.

“So yours are weather powers,” Doctor Mayfair jotted a note down. “All right, those shouldn’t be a problem for a pregnancy then. Oh, wait—you phase, don’t you?”

Sydney nodded, and Doctor Mayfair sighed. “You may have to hold off using that one during your gestation then. Do you plan on continuing your ah, patrolling of the city?”

“Probably not,” Sydney admitted. “I don’t want to put a baby in harm’s way, and all that.”

She’d thought about it, and although it was a little disappointing, it was also a bit of a relief, Sydney admitted to herself. She’d put in three solid years of civic duty for Seattle and none of her team mates would begrudge her maternity leave. They’d probably insist, actually.

“Yes, I think that would be for the best,” Doctor Mayfield agreed. “Best to focus on this new endeavor. So, I suggest you and your partner just relax and make love. Ideally it should be about every two days for maximum potency, but I’m going to prescribe an ovulation test kit so you’ll know exactly when to get busy.”

Sydney laughed; it was funny to hear such a distinguished woman say such a thing.

Doctor Mayfair smirked herself. “Oh, and I suppose I should see your partner as well,” she added as an afterthought.

“Ah, all right, I’ll tell Stephen when I see him—” Sydney began, but Doctor Mayfair’s eyes widened.

“ _Stephen’s_ going to be the father? Stephen Strange himself?”

“Ah . . . yes,” Sydney nodded, blushing.

Doctor Mayfair pressed a hand to her own chest, looking skyward. “Oh that I should live to see the day!” Grinning at Sydney she added, “No wonder he was so insistent on this appointment. This is certainly an honor then.”

Sydney wasn’t sure what to say, but Doctor Mayfair patted her hand. “You two will make fine parents my dear; I’ve got faith on that.”

\--oo00oo—

Finding parking outside the station was the same hassle it always was but Sydney eventually found one at the furthest corner of the lot. Once she was in the door, Louis, the floor manager came over to her, looking frazzled. “Ed’s a no-show, Syd. Can you go on for the five o’clock broadcast?”

She groaned. “I can but I want comp for it.”

“You’ll get it,” Louis assured her, relieved. “Honestly, the gig should have been yours ages ago, but . . .”

She nodded, shrugging. Ed McGuire was a Channel Seven institution, a beloved grandfatherly weatherman for the Seattle audience. Or he used to be; in the last five years he’d been a little cavalier in taking time off, usually without notice. It was an open secret at the station that he spent a lot of his time gambling at Club Hollywood or the Caribbean casino near Kingsgate.

“Yeah. Just let me get the stats ready to roll,” Sydney sighed. She already _did_ most of Ed’s job but that was the behind the scenes work of compiling the forecasts and setting up the green screens. Ed, who’d scraped through his degree in meteorology back in the Sixties, resented her talent with technology that he himself barely understood. He’d also made passes at her in the early months of her employment but Sydney had quietly recorded him, passing the clips to management.

Since Mr. McGuire already had a huge file of similar charges against him and knew it the overt harassment stopped, but he still found thousands of ways to make life difficult for Sydney. Such as being a no-show, like today. It meant she’d have to put on the dress she had stashed in the office closet, and tolerate Renata slapping make-up on her and then trying to deliver the weather without getting self-conscious or overly technical.

She could _do_ it, but it wasn’t the fun part of the job, Sydney thought. Forecasting was serious business; she wasn’t some weather bunny just there to deliver the temperatures. Not that she even wanted to be on-air talent anyway—she was in it for the science, not the fame.

The broadcast went off fine; she worked on smiling and when they broke away from her segment Louis gave her a thumbs-up as she headed his way. The commercials were running on the monitors now and everyone was relaxed.

“So Louis . . .” Sydney began, feeling a little nervous. “I may be going on, ah, maternity leave in a few months.”

Louis looked over at her in surprise. “So you want to work from home, is that it?”

“Wait, I _can_?” This was news to her.

He very nearly rolled his eyes. “Syd, everything you do involves with data and computers, right? Whether you do it here or by remote, it’s still going to be the same stuff, and frankly, management knows it. Oh, and congratulations.” Louis made it a point not to look at her left hand, and Sydney sighed.

“Okay, if I could go remote that would be all kinds of awesome, but you’ll have to do something about a replacement for Ed when he decides he can break curfew.”

“I know,” Louis sighed as he signaled for camera three to move back. “Look, we’ll talk later but I think I can get you the remote gig if you can help bring one of the interns up to speed for stand-in.” 

“ _Can_ do,” Sydney assured him, knowing exactly who to pick, and grinning.

Back at her apartment building there was a delivery note on her mailbox in the lobby and she stopped in at the manager’s office to pick it up. It wasn’t a package though, and Sydney goggled at the flower arrangement that graced the file cabinet there: a delicate blue violet orchid surrounded by lush gardenias.

“For you,” the heavyset manager grunted. “But not from _me_ so don’t get any ideas, Todd.”

Stunned, she plucked the little envelope from the arrangement and picked up her flowers. “Thanks, Mr. Corolopholous.”

He nodded and handed her another envelope. “Yeah, oh, and this too.” 

In the elevator she managed to open the envelope, reading the little message on the card. _A small token for lovely memories._

Sydney blushed, and looked up to the ceiling of the car. She’d never received flowers before, and this unexpected gesture left her a little tender and giddy for the moment. Breathing in the rich scent of the gardenias was wonderful and she set the arrangement on her coffee table, basking in it for a moment.

“You didn’t _have_ to do that,” she told the empty air. “But . . . I’m glad you did.”

Still smiling, Sydney absently opened the other envelope and pulled out the notice from building management that the rent was increasing next month. She gritted her teeth. “Damn it!”

Not good. Not impossible to cover but certainly not the sort of issue she needed right now. She crumpled up the notice, putting more force into it than necessary and threw it across the room. “Thanks, Mr. Corolopholous and company; you’re all heart.”

Sighing, she went to the fridge for a bottle of water and drank half of it, thinking hard. Moving would be work, but certainly it would be easier now than later on when she was actually pregnant. The single bedroom apartment was going to be too small anyway, Sydney honestly acknowledged to herself, especially with all the equipment and furniture a baby would need. 

Still, house-hunting wasn’t going to be fun, and the added stress of that left her feeling decidedly grumpy. She pulled out her phone and texted.

_Thank you for the flowers. They’re wonderful._

A moment later a reply pinged on her phone.

_As are you. How did the appointment go?_

_The doctor is nice, and kind of excited for BOTH of us._ Sydney typed back, grinning.

_Wilhelmina Mayfair is never going to let me live this down,_ came his message a moment later. _But I trust her expertise like no other._

_Good. Um, just to let you know, I’m considering moving,_ Sydney tapped into her phone. _My rent is going up next month and I’m not sure a high-rise is a good place for a baby anyway._

_Agreed,_ came Strange’s reply. _As per my responsibility, I will find us secure and comfortable accommodations. I must go; I would like to see you tomorrow in the afternoon if that is acceptable to you._

_Fine,_ Sydney responded, feeling a little apprehensive. 

Secure? She wondered.

And worried.


	6. Chapter 6

“You bought a MANSION!” Sydney yelled, glaring at him.

“I bought a home,” Stephen countered mildly.

They stood at the end of the turnoff from the 520 Trail Highway in the afternoon light looking up at the dilapidated Second Empire structure covered in vines and shaded by trees. A rusted realtor’s sign dangled from a leaning post, and enthusiastic weeds nearly obscured the walkway leading to the steps of the porch.

“My God, it looks like the Addams Family lives here! Correction, it looks like something the Addams Family would have _moved out_ of because it’s been condemned!” Sydney fumed. “Do you have any idea how much WORK a place like this is going to need?”

“Yes,” Strange told her, amused at her indignation. She turned to glare at him again and he held up a finger. While she was watching, he shifted his hands through a complex pattern, murmuring softly under his breath and the flow of pale energy encircled the building, throbbing slightly in the air. Shutters re-attached themselves; broken boards became whole; the porch railing straightened and the brickwork smoothed out again.

It only took about thirty seconds, but the outward appearance of the entire place shifted from condemned to dignified, and the look on Sydney’s face nearly made him laugh. Strange cleared his throat a little and gave her a small smile. “There’s much more to be done of course, but it’s a good start. Would you like to look at the inside?”

Still speechless Sydney stood there until Strange took her arm and guided her up the steps. “It’s been on the market for nearly twenty years so the price was _extremely_ reasonable, and the realtor assured me that despite the reputation for being haunted the structure is still sound.”

“It’s haunted?” Sydney blinked.

“It _was_ ,” Strange told her, “but I’ve negotiated with the spirit and he agreed to move.”

Sydney touched one of the beautifully turned support posts for the porch. “Of _course_ you did. And where is he going?”

“Your old apartment,” Strange replied. “He was interested relocating to the downtown area and think your manager will be pleased to have the vacancy filled so quickly.”

She burst out laughing, clinging to the post, and every time she looked at him the giggles would start again. Strange smiled, pleased at how pretty she looked with her pink cheeks and grin. He sensed a shift of her mood now and that was a relief.

The house itself held faint hints of magic, most of it absorbed from life force of the trees and nearby waters of the cove behind it. It lay north to south, with enough land around it to be slightly secluded, but close enough to the main road to be accessible too. 

“Shall we look inside?” Strange tapped the lock and they both stepped straight into a face-full of cobwebs.

“Spiders,” Sydney grumbled. “I hope you’ve got a vacuum cleaner in your stuff.”

Another twist of his fingers and the webs vanished. “Try to see the better aspects, please?”

“Hmmm,” came her slightly obstinate answer. They walked through the first floor and Strange felt a sense of pleasure at the ornate woodwork and solid craftsmanship of the house. He said nothing though, following behind Sydney as she studied each room, her expression softening as they finished their circuit downstairs.

“Not bad,” she admitted, slowly taking the stairs, which curved upwards. On the second floor, she gasped.

The eight-sided tower room downstairs was the kitchen; up here it was the master bedroom with windows providing a few of the trees and water of Cozy Cove. She took in the ornate ceiling and built in dressers for a moment before impulsively hugging Strange.

“It’s beautiful,” she sighed. “I never, never thought I’d have a shot at something so amazing!”

He hugged her back. “Finding it was serendipitous. Will it do?”

Sydney smirked. “The deal doesn’t close until I’ve seen the bathroom.”

“Wise,” he agreed.

The master bath was overly-dusty but it didn’t hide the true glory of the oversized claw footed tub. Sydney turned to Strange and held out a hand, her expression solemn. “Done.”

He shook it. “This is binding,” Strange warned her. “No . . .”

“Take-backs? Yeah,” she sighed. “But I’m sold. Did you see the dumb waiter in the hall? And the flowerboxes?”

“And the lightning rod and weathervane with orcas on it, yes,” Strange added. “So far so good. It will take a few weeks to insure everything is structurally sound and that it is up to code but all in all I think it will do.”

They headed down the stairs and out again. Strange watched Sydney linger on the porch a moment, looking out towards Seattle as she did so. When she caught him looking, she mumbled, “I’ve never actually _owned_ a house. The one I grew up in got repossessed by the bank, and after I took off, it’s been apartments this entire time.”

“Ah,” he replied, sliding an arm around her. “Well I didn’t have one myself for many years.”

She looked at him, surprised. “You rented?”

He held her gaze. “I was homeless. Not a very good time in my life. So I _do_ understand a bit of what you feel.”

Sydney looked as if she wanted to ask questions, but caught herself and simply leaned against his shoulder instead. They stayed like that for several comfortable moments.

“I have to tell them tonight,” Sydney murmured as they drove back to her apartment. “We’ve got a sort of de-briefing thing we do once a week and I’ve got to let them know. Stephen . . . what if it doesn’t work?”

“That you fail to get pregnant?” he shot her a sidelong glance. “Then I assume we keep trying until Wilhelmina suggests interventions, although I suspect it will not be a problem. When the entity reached out to you, it was with certainty that you would be its mother. Our child . . .” he spoke more slowly, “will not be entirely human, you realize.”

She looked nervous, so Strange shook his head. “That didn’t come out the way I intended. Our child will be unique in that it existed before it was born; it is the last of its own being and will meld with this world and dimension through birth.”

“The baby I knew in the desert wasn’t really alien,” Sydney said softly.”At least not to _me_. I was never afraid of it. No, I’m more worried about an imperfect body, or never giving it a body.”

“We shall do our best,” Strange tried to soothe her. “Both of us.”

She said nothing but reached for his hand and he took it, squeezing briefly before returning his grip to the wheel.

While Sydney was off to meet her team, Strange stopped in to see Wilhelmina, who gave him a knowing look.

“It’s for the good of the planet,” he announced in his most somber tone as she examined him.

Wilhelmina sighed. “I’m sure it is, Stephen. How long have you known this woman?”

The hesitation damned him. “A month, give or take.”

“ _That_ long?” Wilhelmina murmured dead-pan. 

“If I _could_ have planned this,” Strange replied, looking a little grim, “I _would_ have. Unfortunately this confluence has its own timeline, Wilhelmina. Both of us are harboring half of an entity that needs to be born into this time and space.”

“Ah, all right then. She didn’t mention _that_ part,” Wilhelmina pointed out. “But I’m assuming that for the moment the two halves are . . . secure?”

“As far as I can tell,” Strange replied. “I’m not sure though, if they can be parted for very long.”

“Well then, you and Miss Todd will simply have to, um, work your through your copy of the Kama Sutra, I suppose. For normal couples I recommend intercourse every two days but I’ve given Miss Todd an ovulation test kit so let that be your guideline I suppose. Are you . . . _blushing_?”

“Enjoy it while you can,” Strange muttered, trying to look dignified. He and Wilhelmina Mayfair went back more years than he cared to admit, and she had seen him in every physical condition including dead. The fact that she’d chosen to move her practice to Seattle recently seemed more than coincidence to him.

“Oh I _am_ ,” she teased. “And I think that bodes well for Miss Todd. Is she going to stay a miss, by the by?”

Strange considered that. “I’m . . . not sure. She’s an extremely _independent_ person.”

“Pot, ket-tle,” Mayfair replied softly. “Keep in mind that there are considerations of the legal and monetary sort involved here. If you should pass away—again—would that leave Miss Todd in dire straits? At the very least some sort of trust for her and the child might be advisable.”

“Noted,” Strange agreed as the doctor gave him a quick hug before he left.

He made his way back to Sydney’s apartment, letting himself in and settling into meditation, waiting for her return. It took a little extra concentration to focus, but once he had, the sweep of energy opened to Strange and he could sense the pulse of the city around him easily. 

Strange checked on the entity within him, feeling the small reassuring delight at the contact. _Soon,_ he mentally told the little flicker.

_Good,_ came the reply. _Safe. Warm. Happy._

It touched him. Strange had never seriously considered fatherhood, or given his part in this upcoming conception the due reflection it deserved and he turned his mind to it, mulling over the ramifications of his current course. It dawned on him that his own father had not been particularly involved in his life. Not a terrible father, but not particularly present much through the formative years. He’d had a closer bond with his siblings, although those too had been briefer and sadder than they should have been. Regret seeped into his thoughts and Strange made the effort to counter it, concentrating on the good he could see in the future.

_We both have seen the darker side,_ he thought. _And come through it. We both care about this child enough to take on this venture._

So deeply was he in his astral abstraction that it took a hand on his knee to pull him back to the immediate world. Opening his eyes, Strange looked down at Sydney who was watching him hover cross-legged in the middle of her living room.

“Uh, hi,” she told him gently. “Didn’t mean to interrupt you, but the curtains are open and I think people can see you . . . floating.”

He gave her a brief smile and lowered himself again to the carpet, getting to his feet. “How did your meeting go?”

“Pretty well. They all congratulated me, want to um, know who the father was and if they needed to strong-arm you into marrying me. I put a stop to that sh—ah, nonsense though,” Sydney told him. “They’re kind of protective, but they mean well.”

“Do you _want_ to get married?” Strange asked her quietly. “There would be benefits to it.”

She laughed, half out of embarrassment and half out of disbelief. “Um, no—at least not now. I think we _both_ have enough to deal with at the moment. Besides, that’s not critical to having this baby.”

“All right,” he demurred, feeling a pang of regret. “I understand.”

Sydney gave him a compassionate smile. “We’re _good_ , believe me. Hey, I have an idea—let’s go to the observatory for dinner, come back here and we’ll figure out how this ovulation test works, okay?” she slipped her arms around him, and the comfort of that made him smile.

“An observatory? For dinner?”


	7. Chapter 7

The Buttermiller Observatory was a small structure set on one of the many hills north of Seattle, its rounded dome rising up over the skyline. It was open to the public with a tiny kiosk for tickets to the telescope and viewing deck while on the ground floor was a cafeteria-style restaurant serving a menu geared to the college crowd around them.

Sydney noted that Strange looked bemused, and took pity on him. “First we eat, then we go to the deck; they have the best navy bean soup in the entire state here. I practically _lived_ on this stuff when I worked for Doctor Buttermiller.”

“I thought you studied meteorology,” he allowed himself to be herded into line, tray in his hands.

“I did, but took astronomy too. And it was here—well up in the dome—where my powers first manifested themselves,” Sydney murmured to him. “I made it rain.”

“It does that quite often in this city.”

“Yes, but this was inside,” she chuckled. “I totally drenched some punk vandals and washed away their graffiti. A minor victory.”

“A dousing for justice,” Strange agreed one corner of his mouth going up. They collected their soup along with bread and salad, and then found a table.

Sydney savored the first spoonful. “Perfect. I don’t know how Magda manages to keep it so good and I’m terrified to ask for the recipe, so whenever I get a craving I stop in.”

“I feel the same way about the pastrami at Bergman’s,” Strange told her lightly. “Sometimes a single creature comfort can do a lot of good.”

She asked him about New York and listened to him talk, enjoying his commentary about the skyscrapers and hot dog carts; the parks and panhandlers and pizza of his neighborhood. It was clear how fond he was of the place, and that left Sydney with a pang of guilt. She laid her hand over his.

“I’m sorry about making you leave it so often,” she confessed to him. “I know it’s hard.”

Strange gave her a steady look. “It’s still there and always will be, Sydney. Right now this endeavor is more important. Besides,” he assured her, “I have . . . convenient travel arrangements.”

That made her giggle. They finished their food, made their way through the ticket kiosk and climbed the stairs to the dome. At this point the place was nearly empty, and the docent in charge of the telescope was delighted to see new customers.

“All right, what would you folks like to see?” she asked sweetly, tossing her dreadlocks. “I can show you the top three, or did you have a particular planet or constellation in mind?”

“The top three?” Stephen asked, and Sydney smiled.

“The Big Dipper, Orion’s Belt and the moon.”

“Aren’t those all visible _without_ a telescope?”

“Yes, but it’s a lot more fun being able to zoom in on them,” Sydney pointed out patiently. “Especially for kids.”

“Ah. I would like to see Vulpecula constellation,” Strange replied.

The docent brightened up. “Oh man, a _real_ request! Just give me a moment . . .”

“Vulpecula? The little fox?” Sydney murmured to him, smiling.

“I have no idea what brought it to mind,” Strange bluffed.

The constellation was small and even with magnification hard to see but they both looked at it taking turns. When they were done, they wandered the observation deck, arms linked.

“If that was your attempt at flirting,” Sydney told him with a little sidelong glance. “It worked.”

The test was simple but a little embarrassing. Sydney carried it out of the bathroom, feeling her blush all the way down to her navel. Strange had pulled a book from the case and was looking at it when she stepped out. He looked over at her and she held the little stick up.

“So . . . ovulation due sometime in the next two days,” Sydney murmured. “I hope you brought your toothbrush.”

He gave her a shy little smile, just a flash of one and she saw his own face flush a bit. “I . . . did.”

For some reason that brought on the giggles, and Sydney spluttered, setting the test down and coming over to him, slipping her arms around his waist. “Man we’re _bad_ at this,” she whispered. “This is supposed to be the beginning of some great cosmic confluence and all I’m worried about is which side of the bed you want.”

“Left,” Strange told her, his own voice amused. 

“Oh good, that’s a load off my mind. Do you snore?”

“I suspect I do,” Strange let his hands slide up her back, stroking gently. 

“I’ll just have to cope,” Sydney sighed. “Look, I’m going to take a shower and you can join me if you like.”

“I _would_ like that.” He arched an eyebrow at her, and Sydney felt tingles all through her body, which left her slightly flustered.

It was sensual, but also more than that, Sydney realized as they stood under the cascade together. Funny to see Strange with his normally neat hair wet and tousled, but exciting too to see his broad chest with the light dusting of fur on it, thickening into a trail under his flat navel. And she tried not to stare lower than that, but it was difficult not to.

Strange had no compunction himself as he stared back at her with simple desire. That helped; Sydney stepped into his arms, lathering him up with the soap as she did so. “Hi,” she murmured, feeling silly even as she said it.

“Oh it _will_ go higher,” he murmured, dead-pan, and she laughed, jiggling up against him with sensually soapy results. Sydney kissed him, the move sweet and enticing; a better greeting than words. 

There was no rush despite the heat building between her hips; she let him wash her hair and scrub her back, returning the administrations with thoughtful intimacy, punctuating each gesture with more kisses and caresses. He returned the attention and they lingered until the water began to cool.

Drying off was fun until Sydney caught Stephen gazing at the back of her shoulder; she slid a hand over the scar self-consciously, but he kissed her fingers.

“I recognized it when I first saw it,” he rumbled softly. “I’m angry she did that to you.”

Sydney tried to shrug. “I wasn’t the first kid to get a cigarette burn.”

He held out a hand, murmuring something and she watched as thin white welts rose all over his wrist and tendons, crisscrossing like hatch marks over his long, elegant fingers, mummifying them.

She gasped. “Oh God!”

“I did these to myself,” Strange murmured, his expression slightly bleak. “And even though I have regained my skills, I keep the scars to remind myself of how great a sin hubris is.”

Without thinking Sydney took his hand and kissed it, moved beyond words at his confession. When she looked up, his gaze was tender in a way she instinctively knew no one else would ever see. Strange dropped his mouth to hers and the hunger between them flared.

Somehow they made their way to the bed, tossing the towels aside, and Sydney reached for Strange, relishing the warm weight of him but he rolled to one side, a long damp dark forelock hanging over his gaze.

“I want to _see_ you,” he rumbled. “I want to _know_ you, Sydney.”

She bit her lips. “It’s all pretty much right here. Freckles, fuzz and all. I try to keep everything in shape, and I don’t use sunscreeeee . . . oohhhh . . . .” 

He leaned over her, brushing his goatee down the front of her shoulder to the ruckered nipple of her breast, teasing it with his lips while his hand rested on her stomach. Sydney arched a bit, particularly when his teeth lightly nipped the sensitive skin. Her hands slid up restlessly, reaching for Strange but he evaded her grip, shifting to kiss the other breast, letting his beard tickle the warm valley between them.

“Shhhh,” he murmured, fingers sliding from hip to hip. “I am _learning_ you.”

Sydney looked at him in light frustration. “I’m going to choose to take that as romantic and not medical, okay? And for the record I have _all_ the same parts as any other woman out there.”

“No,” he told her. “You _don’t_. Yours are . . . enticing and beautiful and driving me slightly _mad_ , Sydney Lenore.” Strange shifted again, dragging his mouth down her stomach and kissing her navel, which brought forth giggles as she caressed his still damp hair.

“All of you, from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes is erotic terrain, enthralling me,” he murmured against her skin.

Sydney wriggled but Strange caught her hips, his large palms fitting perfectly over the jutting bones as he pressed more kisses right on the delicate skin above were her glossy fur began.

“Oh, you, ah, don’t _have_ to . . .” she began, as the simmer between her thighs flared into something that made her wriggle. “I mean . . . well . . . if you _want_ to . . .”

Apparently he did, and Sydney shivered, her skin pebbling up as Strange reverently opened her thighs, his fingers stroking the sensitive skin along the insides of them. She rose up on her elbows to look at him, and over the fluff of her pubic curls he looked back up at her . . . and winked. Just as Sydney started to laugh, he licked a sharp flick along the crease of her right thigh and the unexpected heat of his tongue sending quivers straight to her nipples.

He did it again on the other side, making Sydney tense up; her knees tried to close but Strange blocked them with his shoulders, humming softly as he dropped his head and blew a warm breath across the seam of her vulva before sliding his tongue along to open it.

Gasping, Sydney squirmed again, her heartbeat quickening. Strange lightly rested his forearms along her thighs and used his thumbs to open the slick valley of her sex wider, lips and tongue delicately tasting and teasing her.

“Ohhhhhhhdamn,” she groaned, her fingers sliding through his hair, trying to be gentle. “Ah, yesssss, this is good . . .”

It had been years since she’d had anything so intimately perfect done to her this way, and already her body was responding, rocking against Strange’s kisses and touches. Sydney stopped trying to think and for long minutes simply let herself feel the hungry ache building in her, the heat spiraling tighter and tighter until the pinpoint focus of it under his lapping tongue was too much. She shuddered hard, crying out, her hands clutching his hair as the hard crack of a thunder-strike rattled the bedroom window.

Hazily Sydney felt every muscle in her body relax, let her fingers release and slide out of Stephen’s hair. She laughed softly. “I’m totally _not_ sorry for that—”

Strange slid himself up the length of her body and sucked one stiff nipple _hard_ —she arched up in a sharp, almost painful spike of pleasure as hail now hit the window with a pebbly rattle, striking again as he did the same to the other nipple.

Dazed, Sydney slumped back on the bed looking up at him on his hands and knees over her, his eyes dark, his mouth slick, his hair a tangle of black and silver. She reached up to clutch him, pull him down to her.

“ _Please_ —”

“Yes,” Strange growled, “ _yes_ . . .”

He knelt between her thighs, lifting her hips. Sydney felt him push into her, one slow thrust that had made her groan even as her nails dug into his back. Strange pulled back and she could see the strain in his efforts to be gentle. It moved and annoyed her in equal measure; she glared at him.

“I won’t break,” Sydney hissed back. “God, just TAKE me!”

That seemed to break whatever was holding Strange back. He rocked forward, driving deep, and the scrape of his goatee against her cheek had her grinning fiercely. Sydney wrapped her legs high around his waist, aware that ever thrust was making her bed creak in alarming ways. She nipped his chest and shoulders, reveling in the sweet savagery of the moment, feeling a surge of tears.

So good. So very, very _good_.

His strokes became frenzied, deeper and harder. Sydney clenched her muscles, licking his damp and salty cheek as she felt Strange fill her, the pulses hot. She crooned softly, letting him slow and sag onto her, cradling him even as Strange tried to keep his weight off of her frame, both of them panting a bit now.

They didn’t speak for a while. Sydney knew there was no need, not with everything their glances and touches and kisses were saying. She let her hands stroke his back gently as he rested, his breathing becoming regular again, a hot little puff against her ear.

Strange kissed his way across her cheek to her mouth, and the sheer satisfaction in his expression made her laugh very softly.

“Don’t be too pleased with yourself,” she murmured. “You’re sleeping on the wet spot you know.

“A minor sacrifice for the greater good,” Strange replied sleepily. “Besides, I _do_ have a spell for that.”

“Really?” she blinked.

He laughed. “No, of course not. Besides, we’ll be making more of them anyway.”

Sydney grinned. “Oh yeah.”


	8. Chapter 8

_The Journal of Stephen Strange_

_First night of the full moon_

_And so our relationship is now physically consummated. I cannot express the true depth of that in writing, but the bond between Sydney and myself is more than just the connection of yoni to lingam; female to male. I suspected it would be so; we have a curious balance of energies and temperaments between us. I doubt either of us would have chosen the other in any situation other than the one we are currently in, and yet we are meshing in ways that speak of an attraction stronger than the mere physical one._

_I still sense the entity within myself, and can only suppose it will join with its other half during one of our unions in these next few hours. Until then, the endeavor continues, and by this sultry siren of Seattle, I privately admit that I am far too eager to carry on._

It was raining, and the grey gloom of the day gave the bedroom a cozy feel. Opening his eyes, Strange felt Sydney next to him, humming very quietly to herself and when he turned to look at her, she smiled back.

“Hi.”

“Good morning,” he intoned. “I want to apologize.”

She waved a hand. “Pffft, the bed frame was damaged already; I should have warned you before we, ah, broke it.”

“Yes, well that too,” Strange murmured regretfully. “In any case I was referring to the snoring.”

“Very mild,” Sydney assured him, rolling to her side to face him. “It did me good to see you tired out, frankly. Not that I was awake much myself.”

“I confess it has been a while since I’ve slept so . . . deeply.” It came out with more innuendo than he realized when she snickered.

“Oh me too,” Sydney agreed as she slipped under the covers. “However, now that you’re _up_ . . .”

Strange tensed as her warm hands slipped around his turgid length, and he had only a moment to realize what she was doing before her mouth slipped over the end of his prick. The sensation drove a low groan from him, particularly as she slid her tongue in teasing circles around the head.

“Sssssydney,” he hissed, lifting the covers to look at her. That was a mistake, he realized since the sight of her only made him stiffer. She lifted her head, giving one long lick before looking around his erection at him.

“No good?” she asked, looking crestfallen.

“Goooood,” he assured her, speaking very carefully since her hands continued to stroke him. “Exceedingly good, _wonderfully_ good but, I can’t let you . . . er, finish this.”

“I know,” Sydney told him, “I just consider it . . . priming the pump.”

The terrible pun combined with renewed kisses nearly undid him, and Strange bit his lips trying not to laugh. There was something enthralling about her unself-conscious sensuality; her playful earthiness. It had been a long time since he’d just allowed himself to respond to someone without forethought and gravity.

And he was certainly responding now, he knew. His hips began to rock, making a counter-rhythm to Sydney’s palms, sending pangs of delicious pleasure through him. For a while he enjoyed it, but eventually Stephen reached for her shoulder, lightly squeezing it. She looked up, eyes bright, lips wet.

“Come here,” he urged her, tugging her up along his body. He settled himself against the headboard and guided his impatient cock as Sydney straddled his hips, impaling herself slowly on him. They both gave low moans of pleasure as she did so.

Strange moved as slowly as he could, hands splayed over her ass, bouncing her gently up and down on his lap, responding to Sydney’s wet kisses. She braced her hands on his wide shoulders and after a while the syncopation of their bodies grew smooth with each stroke. Strange felt the slow rise of heat down his stomach. Shifting one hand, he brought it forward, letting his thumb rest lightly against the little swollen bud between Sydney’s hips. 

Every bounce let him stroke her, she began to writhe, dark hair swinging as she gasped. “Ohhhhgoodgoodgoooooooood . . .”

Close. He grunted, working to hold back, keeping his strokes steady, his thumb still sliding slickly over her button. When Sydney began to shudder, Strange thrust harder, giving in to the relentless surge of heat now demanding release. He pressed his mouth against the soft join of her neck and shoulder as his orgasm wracked his frame, the searing bliss almost more than he could bear as all around them the thunder rolled on.

And he felt it; the flow of the entity passing from him to her in a golden moment of sweetness. _Done,_ Strange thought in a daze. _Done._

Sydney slumped against him, head against his shoulder, her breathing ragged but slowing, her hands softening from their hard grip to caress him. He heard her whisper wonderingly. “We _did_ it.”

“Yes,” Strange whispered back just as awed. “We _did_.”

\--oo00oo—

He insisted she lie down for half an hour with her feet up; a move that made her roll her eyes.

“It took; I’m telling you I _felt_ it, Stephen. Done deal,” she murmured indulgently.

“As did I, but keeping the cervix tipped is still wise. Despite everything else I _am_ a doctor.” He conjured up his bathrobe, tying the belt and turning to her. “Eggs. How do you take yours?”

“Scrambled. Ooooh, _like_ the outfit,” Sydney waggled her eyebrows at his heavy velvet robe. It was one of his few indulgences, done in midnight blue with a red silk lining and cuffs with a glitter of occult symbols over it. He glanced down, pleased.

“One must look the part,” Strange admitted, “Even when making breakfast.”

“It’s nice. I like you naked too though,” Sydney smiled at him. “Oh sexy Sorcerer Supreme.”

He felt his face heat up a bit, and cleared his throat to regain some sense of dignity as he headed to the kitchen, but it was hard not to grin.

When he returned with plates, Sydney looked up from her book thoughtfully. “Farmer’s market today, and laundry; what’s on _your_ agenda?”

“Mystic meditation, a consultation on reinforcing the energy barriers at the Krubera Cave against lava demons and revisiting the entity’s dimension to check if the malevolence is still there,” Strange told her. “Average day, really.”

“Sounds like it,” she teased. “Do you have time for the market, or do you need to go?”

“Oh there’s assuredly time for the market,” Strange replied, secretly pleased to be invited. “Perhaps we can even find some pastrami.”

“Possibly,” Sydney agreed. “I’m going to sit up; it’s hard to eat eggs lying down. These are really good.”

“Thank you. I don’t cook as often as I’d like but eggs are simple.”

“I hear you. I cook, but for one is a bit of a drag,” Sydney nodded, “especially if it means you’re stuck eating the same dish for three days.”

The market was a bit more crowded than last time, and Strange noted that the apple stall was opening up. He stepped over, leaving Sydney to sort through asparagus, and looked over the glossy stacks of Red Delicious, admiring them. The wizened little seller on the other side of the table caught his eye and made a tiny head bow.

“सिकेको,” she murmured to him, and he bowed back.

“बुद्धिमानी एक,” Strange replied respectfully. “How much are your apples?”

She quoted a reasonable price and Strange nodded, choosing four and paying her. The little seller made change and added in English, “You are not often on this coast. I hope all is well.”

“All is,” he assured her. “All is.”

He carried the apples back, amused at the seller’s recognition of him, and pleased with the purchase. Sydney caught his expression and raised an eyebrow, asking without words what had happened and he told her.

“I guess I should expect that, huh? You’re sort of famous and all.”

“Not _that_ famous,” Strange countered. “Not enough to be a distraction I think. And hope. How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” she told him firmly. “It’s the first day; isn’t it a little early for mother-henning?”

“My prerogative as a new father, but I shall make an attempt to rein it in. I do consider it reasonable to worry about leaving you alone, however.” Strange sighed. “Especially in a house as large as West Haven.”

She shot him a sidelong look. “It has a _name_? West Haven?”

“It does. All grand houses do, and this one fits. It’s on the west coast and it is our haven,” came his explanation. “Much better than its original name.”

“Which was?” Sydney needed to know.

“Feldman’s Folly.” 

She snickered. “Good call.”

When they returned, Strange knew he had to leave for the consultation. He’d already delayed his departure longer than necessary, and he knew perfectly well the reason _behind_ his reluctance but that didn’t make it any easier.

“I will return as soon as I can,” he told Sydney, who was sorting laundry into various baskets. She looked up briefly, nodding.

“Okay.”

“If you need to reach me--”

“—I’ll call,” she murmured, tossing a shirt down. “Or text.”

“Yes,” Strange shifted, feeling awkward. “Sydney . . .”

She gave a little sigh and turned, cupping his face in her hands, kissing him firmly until he relaxed into it, kissing back.

Sydney pulled away and smirked at him. “Stephen, yes, our world has changed but we still need to do what we need to do. I will be _fine_. In the event I’m not, I will _call_ you. Now go stop some lava monsters, and on your way back, pick up a pregnancy test so we can both reassure ourselves, all right?”

He looked at her. “All right. And . . . thank you. This is as new to me as it is to you and as you can see, I’m _not_ quite sure what to do.”

“Me either,” she admitted, “but I’m good at bossing people around.”

“So I am learning.” 

He flexed his fingers and within seconds stood in his full costume, noting Sydney’s admiring expression before he faded away, feeling oddly comforted at the thought of returning to her later.


	9. Chapter 9

_Tuesday, 8:32 AM, Overcast but light._

_So the three of us are now into the third week of this pregnancy, and I’m starting to panic a little. Not because my stomach is a little sensitive—I expected that. Not because I’ve got to deal with a lot of new rules about what I can and can’t eat/do, but because it’s becoming clear that yes, in about eight months and one week I’m going to be giving birth and I still don’t know a damned THING ABOUT BABIES!_

_Deep breath, girl. You can do this._

_The upside is that the house is looking great. Once Stephen did his magic hand signs, a lot of the repairs just sort of beautifully happened. He even had a gesture to get rid of the dust and bugs! (I need to learn that one.) I also got my moving deposit back, and decided what I wanted to keep and what could go. (cough, cough, broken bed frame) Big advantage of moving in with a sorcerer? Not having to deal with renting a u-haul, heh. Everything just sort of got popped over and moved into place without the usual swearing._

_His furniture showed up too . . . a lot of ornate antique stuff he’d had in storage apparently, but it fits with the décor. We still need to get a bed frame since the box spring and mattress are currently on the master bedroom floor, but it’s getting sorted out. At work Ed’s being his usual pain in the ass about my training Thao to do the weather segments but Lou’s backing me to the hilt and that helps. I’m expecting good old Ed will also be the first to call me a slut when I start to show, but I don’t care._

It wasn’t true; she _did_ care, however Sydney knew enough not to respond to the insinuations. She’d dealt with harassment before, but it still took some courage to walk into HR and make arrangements.

It didn’t help that she and Strange were sticking to a cuddle buddy routine as well, mostly to insure she didn’t have spotting issues this early on. It seemed perfectly reasonable when he’d explained it, and Sydney understood the medical reasons behind the abstinence, but it was damned hard on her newly awakened libido. The scent of him— smoky sage and polished wood—was delicious, and more than once she’d borrowed his robe on the nights he was gone, wrapping herself in it for comfort.

He hadn’t caught her yet, thank goodness; Sydney wasn’t sure she could face him over that.

Still, she took her time fixing up West Haven, mostly to keep busy and not brood too much over the changes going on within her and around her. Although not a particularly artsy person, Sydney took some pride in hanging pictures, painting the porch railings and clearing out the forest of weeds from the front yard. She’d met the mailman and the closest neighbor was about a quarter mile down the road; the Ryemans, an elderly couple with an asthmatic Basset Hound named Junie.

Things were shaping up and if it wasn’t for the morning sickness and lack of lovemaking Sydney knew she’d be content. Having so much space helped, though. She had an official remote office now, and had set up connections with the Citizen’s Weather Observation Program and Skywarn as well as to Channel Seven. She’d had a weather station mounted to optimal readings settings on the roof and side of the house, making it easy to supplement and verify the NWS data. The digital age was making work easy.

Doctor Mayfair saw her for the official intake visit and greeted Sydney warmly. “So, how goes the start of this great adventure?”

“Great, except for the ninety minutes between eight-thirty and ten,” came the reply. “That’s when I absolutely have to make sure I’m near a bathroom or trash can. Other than that, no problems,” Sydney shrugged. “Mostly.”

That last slipped out, and Doctor Mayfair caught it. “Mostly?”

Sydney looked a little embarrassed. “It’s nothing. Just hormones I guess.”

Doctor Mayfair gave a little unconvinced hum as she checked Sydney’s pulse. The silence dragged on, and it got to be too much. Finally—

“I’m just, well, sort of missing . . . the, ah, physical side of things. Which is _fine_ ,” Sydney rushed on. “I know it’s for the good of the baby, but—”

Doctor Mayfair looked stern. “Well _that’s_ unnecessary. You’ve got no history of reproductive difficulties or irregular periods, Sydney. And if there _were_ issues, I would have advised you on alternatives since _I_ am your obstetrician. Let me guess; this was Stephen’s suggestion?”

Caught, Sydney nodded. 

Doctor Mayfair gave a little snort. “Surgeons! Think they know everything about _every_ medical specialty. Well I assure you that a woman’s body is particularly rugged when it comes to sex and right now it’s extremely important to feel loved and cared for, in every sense of the word. And yes, outside of extreme gymnastics and roughness, you two _should_ be making love. You both need the endorphin release for one thing. That will help _you_ and quite honestly, take some of the starch out of _him_.”

Sydney giggled, and Doctor Mayfair joined in, the mood in the exam room much lighter now. 

“Thanks,” Sydney managed. “That helps.”

Doctor Mayfair scribbled on a pad, and tore the sheet off, handing it to her. “There, my _official_ prescription. Now let’s check your blood pressure.”

Later, after picking up the prenatal vitamins and receiving the first trimester instruction list, Sydney headed out, feeling a little smug.  
She had shopping to do.

\--oo00oo—

Dinner was pasta; easy to fix, easy to store. Sydney prided herself on a good pesto and was pleased when Strange showed up in time to help lay out the plates. He looked at her curiously when she smirked at him.

“Is it some special occasion?” Strange wanted to know.

“Sort of,” she waved off his question. “So I’m actually getting a raise—well a single pay bump—for the weather station so I went ahead and bought a bed-frame.”

“Good,” Strange replied, magically shifting from official sorcerer wear to his slightly more casual dress shirt, vest, and slacks. Sydney glanced at him and smiled to herself. Initially when his wardrobe had appeared in the master bedroom closet a week before, she had teased him about not having a single pair of jeans or tee-shirt to his name.

“No flannel, no Henleys, no sweatshirts or hoodies . . .” Sydney had sighed. “One would think you never had any _down_ time, Stephen.”

“I don’t, generally,” he’d admitted. “Not until now.”

And that had been enough for her to kiss him. “All right, I’ll stop, but you know you’re going to stand out a little in your, um, semi-casual attire, right?”

“Seattle will simply have to cope,” Strange had assured her with that familiar upturn of a corner of his mouth. “I’m simply too old to be hipster, Sydney.”

“What did _you_ do today?” Sydney wanted to know, serving up a plates for them both. It was gratifying to see him breathe in the scent and smile before speaking.

“Defeated fifteen pieces of a shattered Djinn in a battle of magic and set up the trust fund for you and our child. I missed lunch however, and this looks delicious.”

“Dig in,” she smiled.

They ate, chatting easily over the meal and after they’d done the dishes, Sydney led him upstairs and motioned for him to step into the bathroom with her.

“Which color do you like best?” she asked him, showing the line-up of her lipsticks. He glanced at them and then at her, slightly confused but indulgent too.

“Is this a test?”

“Of sorts,” Sydney replied, moving closer to him. “Choose wisely.”

Amused, he flicked an index finger and the tube of soft rose drifted up away from the others. “Very well. This one.”

“Oh _good_ ,” Sydney reached up for it, and handed over Doctor Mayfield’s prescription to Strange. “Because _you’re_ going to be wearing this on various points of your body tonight.”

It was delightful to see him scan the slip and blink, to see that hint of pink across his high cheekbones. When Strange looked up, it was with a blend of lust and consternation. “And how did this . . . second opinion come about?”

“ _Inadvertently_ , if that’s what you’re asking,” Sydney sighed. “She picked up on the fact that frankly I’ve been a little . . . frustrated, and reassured me that we could in fact . . . indulge--”

“ _You’ve_ been frustrated?” came his deep and amused question. “ _You’ve_ been frustrated?” Before she could react he slipped his arms around her, tugging her to him and nuzzling her throat. “I’ve spent _hours_ in the last few weeks trying to meditate my libido away, Sydney Lenore, all to little avail. I want what’s best for you and the child, but simply lying next to you night after night has been a trial in itself and I wasn’t sure if I could _last_ three months.”

He said it with a little chuff against her jaw line, hands moving slowly up and down her back. Sydney tried to sound soothing even though she was grinning.

“You’re warm,” Strange practically accused her. “And curvaceous and in case you didn’t know it, you are in fact, a _cuddler_. It’s taken a great deal of my personal willpower to unpeel you and roll away. Ruthless vixen.”

“Oh really? And that’s why I was waking up in the morning with _you_ practically plastered up against my spine?” She chuckled. “That cuddling allegation goes both ways you know.”

“Warmth,” he repeated stubbornly. “Seattle is surprisingly chilly and you are not.”

“Well then, I suggest we settle this like grown-ups and jump each other’s bones,” Sydney proposed with mock sternness. “That will show _us_ now, won’t it?”

Strange laughed. It was a deep rumble, a rarity but all the sweeter for that. Sydney joined him, feeling all the tiny tensions drain out of her at this simple reassurance. She kissed his furry chin. “All right. You may have the bathroom first, and I will join you in our now-elevated bed after I’ve primped myself. Deal?”

“More waiting,” he pretended to sigh. “You are a cruel woman, Sydney Lenore.”

“Oh I will _make_ it worth your time,” she promised, meaning every word.

Sydney fished in the towel cupboard of the bathroom for the bag she’d tucked there, pulling out the negligee and tugging off the price tag. It has been a hopeful whim, stepping into Jezebel’s after her appointment, but looking again at the sheer gauze of the gown Sydney felt a few tingles of erotic anticipation. It was floor-length but practically a cobweb, a grey translucent off-the-shoulder garment that hid nothing. Taking a breath for courage, she slipped it on, applied her lipstick and reached for the Strange’s bathrobe on the back of the door.

It effectively covered her, and threatened to trip her as Sydney stepped out and looked towards the bed where Strange sat propped against the headboard, looking at her with a smolder she realized he was probably completely unaware of. 

“Is that . . . my robe?” he asked, arching an eyebrow at her.

Sydney managed to move closer and not stumble, which she counted as a victory. She cleared her throat. “Should I take it off?”

Strange smiled at her, playing along. “Come closer and I’d be happy to help you out of it.”

It was difficult to saunter but she made the attempt, coming to his side of the bed. Strange reached for one end of the sash, giving it a quick tug. Sydney let the bathrobe slide off of her to puddle at her feet.

Oh the look on his face was worth every _penny_ , she decided right then and there.

Then Strange growled, muttering something dire and full of harsh consonants and Sydney yelped as the bathrobe _scooped her up_ , lifting her up in the air. It brought her over to him and Strange studied at her with an intensity that made her breathless.

“What have we here?” he rumbled, catching an edge of the negligee and flicking it up to expose one of her sleek thighs. “A mere _shadow_ of a gown. Barely a few ounces of gauze. I approve.”

She shifted her hips, feeling a rush of heat between them, not sure exactly _how_ she was floating on his bathrobe but not really caring much about that at the moment either. Strange closed his eyes and then drifted up off of the bed himself, a faint hint of glow around him. The robe obediently moved closer and Sydney realized it had flattened out under her as Strange slid next to her on it.

“Okay, this wasn’t _quite_ how I pictured this happening,” she confessed absently, her hands already stroking his shoulders. “But we’re over the bed, so---”

He cut her off with a very definite kiss, and she eagerly responded, forgetting about the air, the robe and pretty much everything else. Good kisses, hungry kisses; the sort that Sydney could lose herself in and did. There was something very tender about the way Strange kissed her, with intimate promises in each one.

And his hands . . . they slid under the whisper of her gown, gliding with sensual intent over her skin, igniting little trails of heat that made Sydney breathlessly achy. When he pushed the veil of her negligee up over her breasts to drop his mouth on her nipples she moaned with pleasured relief.

“I’ve _missed_ these,” he murmured against the ruckered flesh, nibbling it.

“Yeah, they’ve missed you too,” she replied, making sure her own hands were just as busy. After a while the nightgown drifted to the floor. 

Slow and sweet. Sydney arched her hips up as Strange stroked into her, their mutual pleasure intensifying with each one. She’d never made love this . . . _deliberately_ before. It was powerful; Sydney felt the heat shift from her skin down through her muscles, surging down her spine incrementally, the swell of passion heading between her hips with every slick rock of their entangled bodies. Strange held her gaze, his own face damp with erotic exertion. 

It rose in her before she could stop it, the words slipping out as the sweet thunder hit all around them, shaking the air. Strange kissed her hard, drinking in her confession, his own sweet pleasure spilling into her in return, thrust after thrust searing and slick. They stayed tangled, the robe a silky hammock in the air.

Drowsily she felt him drag his mouth along her throat, heard him return her words between soft kisses before they both drifted off.

\--oo00oo—

Naturally it was when both of them were deeply asleep that the tree exploded. 

Sydney bit back a scream at the shock, flinching hard. Strange dropped them both to the bed and rose, waving a hand. The house around them went transparent and he looked in every direction while Sydney pulled the mystic bathrobe around her.

“What? What _is_ it?” she demanded.

“The pine at the southeastern corner of the house has . . . been hit,” Strange reported. “Stay here.”

He flew down to ground level in the direction of the tree. Sydney sat up and watched him approach the shattered pine. Something flashed by, circling him, growling.


	10. Chapter 10

_The Journal of Stephen Strange_

_Last quarter waning moon_

_When I told Sydney that I was a cat person, I meant that I have an affinity for felines. They have a particular mindset that I find refreshingly direct, and I appreciate that they are capable of self-care. Cats are more attune to magic and therefore often a choice for familiars, as borne out by history. I get along well with cats and they with me._

_That being said, I was not prepared, however, for the one outside the house that had managed to destroy a fifteen foot Ponderosa Pine. This cat was more than merely aware of magic as evidenced by its size and contentious temperament. It rooted around the base of the tree, seemingly searching for something and not finding it. I promptly encased it in an energy field; an action not at all appreciated by the cat, who seemed extremely annoyed at being confined._

_And here I thought life in Seattle would be boring._

“Oh my God, that thing’s _huge_!” Sydney gasped. Strange glanced her way and nearly lost his focus since the first item of clothing she’d grabbed was the nightgown. He quickly looked back at the beast he'd levitated into the house.

“Sydney my sweet, you need to put a little more _on_ if I’m to keep my concentration,” he told her, looking carefully at the cat, who bared long curved fangs in defiance. As she hustled off for the bathrobe, he levitated the beast higher to study it more closely, noting its coloring and shape. 

“Grey and white tabby markings, overly large paws for snow, cheek tufts, visible fangs . . . Lynx?” he muttered. “Bobcat? Too small to be any sort of mountain lion . . .”

The cat moved to wash a paw, and when it bent its head, Strange noted the darker coloring between its ears and down across its forehead. An sort of odd leathery patch. Sydney returned and moved to peer over his shoulder at the beast. “It’s a . . . mini sabertooth cat?”

“It’s more than that. There’s magic in this beast. What sorts of cryptid legends are there for this area?” Stephen asked. He snapped his fingers and a heavy tome popped into existence. Sydney pulled out her cell phone and began tapping it rapidly.

A few moments later they found the answer at the same time. “Splintercat!”

The beast looked up, tail flicking back and forth, not nearly as aggressive as wary now. Strange maneuvered the book towards Sydney. “Read me the entry, please.”

“Splintercat, _Felynx arbordiffisus,_ ah, native to the Pacific Northwest. Capable of charging itself with static electricity and discharging it as it rams trees in search of prey. Distinctive skull plates, weight between twenty-two and thirty-two pounds, life span, fifty to sixty years. That’s more than Google has listed. So . . . what’s it doing here?”

“Magic,” Strange sighed. “The house is infused with it now and it will draw those aligned to its radiance I’m afraid.”

“What, so you’re telling me that we’re currently living in the mystical porch light for all sorts of pesky . . . _things_?” Sydney demanded, slightly peeved. 

“A slightly bizarre but accurate analogy,” Strange admitted. “The lure of occult energy is generally minor though. This beast is a rarity.”

The Splintercat looked slightly insulted and twitched its whiskers.

Sydney glared back at it. “Fine, so . . . I don’t suppose there’s any sort of magical animal control is there? No Newt Scamander to take this thing away?”

“No,” Strange replied dryly. “I could send it out of state, but it hasn’t done any true harm.”

“Stephen! We’ve got a fallen tree that’s flattened our mailbox!” Sydney pointed out. “It could have hit the _house_!”

The cat, bored with this conversation, gave a little yowl instantly familiar to anyone who had ever owned a cat and a can opener at the same time. 

They looked at each other.

Sydney gave a put-upon sigh but opened the fridge. She pulled out the leftover pasta, warmed it, and set it on the kitchen floor. Cautiously, Stephen released the force field.

They waited.

The Splintercat gave a delicate sniff and twirl of his whiskers before diving for the bowl, burying its furry face into it, gulping away noisily.

They watched him.

“I didn’t really think he’d _eat_ it,” Sydney murmured, startled.

“Never underestimate the appeal of your pesto,” Strange told her with a quick grin. “However being fed should put him into a better mood and then we can decide what to do with him.”

Within minutes the Splintercat finished the pasta, cleaned the bowl with a raspy tongue and strode off towards the living room, padding softly on his huge paws. Cautiously Strange followed, with Sydney behind him as the beast considered each piece of furniture. The winner was the club chair near the fireplace, and the Splintercat leaped up, settling into it and giving his face a good wash.

Strange slowly approached him, and the Splintercat gave him a tolerant look. 

“All right, I know why you were drawn here, and that you mean no harm,” he told the beast. “We’ve fed you and in return I ask you to leave.”

The Splintercat ignored him, working on a particularly stubborn paw pad.

“I don’t think he’s taking the hint,” Sydney snickered. “Can you . . . I don’t know, _mind-meld_ with him or something?”

Strange turned and gave her an incredulous glare. “No. Despite being gifted with many abilities, telepathic communication with animals _isn’t_ on my CV, Sydney. And quite frankly, he’s a _cat._ ”

“A big one,” she grumbled. Turning to the Splintercat, Sydney reached out a hand and called, “puss, puss, puss.”

The cat looked at her, and a faint purr radiated from him. She gingerly reached under his chin, scratching there and the purr intensified. Strange stroked the Splintercat from between his tufted ears down his spine and within minutes the beast was sprawled in bliss, looking like an enormous kitten.

“I fear we have now become owners of a Splintercat,” Strange sighed. “Theoretically, if we keep him fed he won’t ram any more trees.”

“Fed,” Sydney sighed. “Does Purina even make Splintercat chow?”

“We’ll have to experiment, and if worst comes to worst, at least he’ll eat pasta. In the meantime, I shall deal with the damage outside.”

 

By morning things seemed normal, although Strange discovered that at some point the Splintercat had clawed impressive grooves along one leg of the club chair. Repairing them with magic was simple; finding a more tempting scratching post for beast was a bit harder.

“A log,” Sydney suggested, “Heavily doused in catnip. I suppose we’ll have to get some toys for him, and a bowl as well. No litter boxes, though, not for a cat his size. He can cope outside. Oh, and he needs a name.”

“Desmond,” Strange responded absently.

“Yes,” Sydney agreed after a moment’s thought. “He does seem like a Desmond. Let’s go to Pet & Pat and see what we can get.”

The aisles of Pet & Pat had rows and rows of cat toys, all far too small to be of any practical use. Strange picked up a ball of yarn and feathers, eyeing it. “He’d swallow it whole.”

“Yep,” Sydney agreed. “We may need to look at dog toys instead. BIG dog toys. I did find the catnip though. I don’t suppose he’d wear a collar?”

“Not without significant blood loss on our parts,” Strange sighed. “This will mean a magic-infused cat door too I suppose.” Despite it all, he felt slightly pleased at the new addition to their household. A cat of Desmond’s size would not only keep the rodent population down, but also defend the house to a certain degree both on a physical and mystical level.

“You’re probably right. Let’s check out the foods . . . I have to help set up a remote weather segment in a few hours so we’ve got to get back soon.” 

The sight of Desmond lolling about, stoned on catnip sent Sydney into a giggling fit, and even Strange found himself laughing as the Splintercat rubbed his face along the bark of the half-log in front of the living room fireplace, his purrs and rumbly squeaks filling the room.

“Well if he wasn’t our cat before he certainly is _now_ ,” Sydney pointed out, wiping her eyes. “Ohh, gotta go. I’ll be back around dinnertime.” She kissed Strange and headed out, leaving him to watch Desmond wriggle in bliss.

Strange sat on the carpet, cross-legged and prepared to meditate. He did it daily to refocus his energies and open himself to the intersecting edges of dimensions. In general it was a sound practice and one that allowed him a measure of universal mindfulness.

“Namo AmitaBhaaaa . . .” _bump._

“Namo AmitaBhaaaa . . .” _bump._

Opening his eyes he looked down. Still on his back, Desmond had scooted himself across the floor and was lightly knocking his head against Strange’s right knee, pupils wide. Strange sighed and reached over to pet him. “Oh very well. I suppose I can align myself to the cosmos later,” he told the Spintercat, who wrapped his enormous paws around Strange’s hand and licked it.

Strange smiled. He hadn’t had a pet since his childhood, but the easy affection came naturally, and his fingers found the best scratching places under Desmond’s chin. After a while they both rose and Strange headed out to collect the mail, Desmond trotting after him in the overcast daylight.

There was no mail, but Strange lingered outside, looking around the yard. He walked to the restored pine, eyeing the ground around it. Something had attracted Desmond to this particular tree, and a few steps later, Strange spotted the bone bat’s remains in the grass. He knelt to study it, slightly alarmed at the creature’s size.

“Well well, the good _and_ the bad are coming to call,” he murmured, gesturing at the pale clutter. The bones rose and reassembled themselves into a creature the size of an owl, with sharp piranha-like teeth. The bones held no life in them now though; Desmond’s attack had been more than enough to sizzle the creature to death. Strange glanced up at the pine.

Bone bats were minor in the realm of mystical monsters, but they could induce nightmares and feed off of life energy, he knew. The fact that one had roosted in the pine without him realizing it was . . . disturbing, and Strange realized he would have to reinforce the protective charms around the house. Sighing, he gathered the bones for use later, and strode around the corner of the house, looking up at the surrounding trees.

There were no other bone bats roosting in any of them. Desmond found Strange’s inspection interesting and joined him in examining the trees, clawing one in particular before following him into the house. Once back inside, Strange lifted his amulet free from under his shirt and began to recite the Charm of Protection again, feeling the energy weave itself through and around the building, leaving little pale trails of ozone and ice crystals to fade away.

He felt better, and looked at Desmond. “Let’s see which food you prefer, shall we?”

Asking was a mistake, Strange realized, six cans later. Desmond had enthusiastically downed the contents of all of them without hesitation, and had hopped up on the counter to inspect each of the empty containers. 

“Apparently Splintercats are non- _particular_ carnivores,” he muttered to himself. “Desmond, you will end up eating us out of house and home. This calls for an intervention.”

Strange picked up the stainless steel feeding bowl and set it on the counter. Desmond stuck his face in it to check for any leftover food. When none appeared, he hopped off the counter in a huff. Once the beast was down, Strange ran his index finger inside each empty can and then around the rim of the bowl, casting a quick spell of daily replenishment. It was a small spell, but he still felt guilty about using it for personal reasons, muttering under his breath.

“For the greater good,” he told his conscience. “In defense of the woman and the child.”

Perhaps not directly in defense, Strange admitted to himself, but just as for the want of a nail, this small measure would help insure that the Splintercat would stay on and help protect the house.

A yowl rose up, and Strange sighed, setting about the matter of a cat door.


	11. Chapter 11

_Tuesday, 8: 15, sunny but crisp_

_It’s official; at fourteen weeks I have a baby bump. Not huge but definitely visible now. Glad I’m not particularly vain, but it’s also good I’m not suiting up and patrolling around, either. At best the bad guys would feel sorry for me, and at worst . . . no, don’t even want to think about it._

_Stephen’s been away for a week, off in some other realm, according to the message I received from his associate, Mr. Wong. He assured me this wasn’t uncommon and that Stephen was in no danger. I’m not sure I believe that, but I guess there are situations that only the Sorcerer Supreme can handle and I’ll have to get used to being on my own for extended periods. I worry though. Things have been said between us that have changed our paradigm whether we want to admit it or not._

Sydney shot a glance at the fridge, feeling slightly guilty. It was hard to explain but for some reason the idea of a peanut butter chocolate chip and onion sandwich sounded _fabulous_ at the moment. The fact that it wasn’t lunchtime didn’t bother her as much as the knowledge that a Channel Seven van was due to pull up at any moment to do a feature on the home weather station. 

A puff piece, yes, but it would be good for station PR to show off the investment, and help remind viewers of that local, home-town connection. Frankly Sydney thought it would come across as a bit boring to anyone except fellow weather nerds, but she’d agreed to do it as a favor to Louis. A remote meant that they’d send Big Jo as camerawoman, but it also meant Ed as the on-air talent, and Sydney wasn’t looking forward to that at all.

The whole thing would be edited, she knew, trimmed down to make a three minute segment, but they’d have to shoot at least ten minutes’ worth, and in that time Ed would get his digs in. Or try to, at least. Big Jo wasn’t an Ed fan either, and Sydney hoped that she’d keep the weatherman off her back. 

There was enough time, she decided, and made the sandwich.

Delicious, especially on toast. Sydney chewed it, savoring the sting of the onions with the creaminess of the peanut butter and slight crunch of the chocolate chips. Sure it was weird she admitted to herself, but if that was what the Bump wanted, that was what it was going to get. 

About halfway through it, Sydney heard the van arriving. Regretfully leaving the remains of the sandwich, she wiped her mouth and head out the front door, watching as Big Jo pulled up the gravel and parked. She gave her a quick hug after getting out.

“Nice place,” she commented. “Good light.” That was high praise from the woman and Sydney grinned. Then Ed clambered out, looking slightly sour.

“Well well, we must be overpaying you if you can afford a place like _this_ , Syd,” Ed told her, trying to make it sound like a joke. There was a needle of spite in it, though as there often was in Ed’s comments.

Sydney played it off. “It’s a money pit, but the location’s nice. So the station’s around back and on the side of the house—let me show you.”

Leading them, she guided both of them to the set-up, aware that the back yard was still overgrown and that despite attempts to make it passable it still looked a bit rough. Ed bitched. “Damn it, this is unacceptable! This piece’s supposed to look professional, Syd, not like some trek looking for Bigfoot!”

“Relax, McGuire,” Big Jo assured him. “Most of it’s at shoulder level and we’ll be using tight focus. It’s great Sydney, don’t worry about it.”

Sydney nodded, making her way to the rain gauge. She hadn’t seen Desmond around, but she suspected he was snoozing somewhere; possibly the roof since it had the best sun exposure. So far he hadn’t met anyone but she didn’t know whether it was due to his cautious nature or because he didn’t deem the mailman or the Ryemans a threat.

“Okay, so give me an idea of what circuit we’re going to do and what pieces we’re looking at,” Big Jo murmured. “Light gauge reading is good.”

Sydney told her, pointing out each section and then waved to the roof. “You won’t get much of a shot of the anemometer I don’t think. Did you want any footage of the home office?”

“Sure,” Big Jo nodded. “That will kind of cap it, I think. Good with you, McGuire?”

He shrugged. “Fine.”

The shoot went fairly well. Ed got in a few remarks about the unkempt yard but for the most part he gave a good little spiel about each instrument and how it worked. Sydney stayed out of it except for a brief introduction at the beginning. Once they’d done all the outside clips, she led them inside. 

“Lah-di-dah,” Ed muttered. “If it’s not you, then it’s got to be your big bucks sugar daddy then.”

“McGuire, shut up,” Big Jo told him mildly.

“Hey, just calling it like I see it,” Ed replied. “None of _us_ are living in restored mansions.”

Sydney took a deep breath. “Home office is here, guys.” She waved them in, feeling some pride in having it tidy and on-line.

Ed stepped in and looked around, then at her. “Eh, not bad. I guess.”

Big Jo gave Sydney a look of mutual commiseration and they began to set up the shot. After the first take, while they waited for Big Jo to shift angles, Ed smirked.

“So I guess the rumor’s true,” he murmured, giving Sydney’s waist a pointed glance. “Got a bun in the oven, eh Todd? Well you’ve got a few months to beg him into marrying you I guess.”

“McGuire, shut the fuck up,” Big Jo called out, not even looking up from her playback. “You _know_ I have HR on speed-dial.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get your butch boxers in a knot,” Ed replied shortly. “You know _technically_ it’s not harassment if it’s true.”

Sydney fought to stay calm, but having to deal with this in her own office made her blood pressure go up; she could _feel_ it rising. “Ed, you’ve said a lot of shitty things to me over the years but this takes the damned cake and I _don’t_ have to put up with it in my own house. Jo, we’ll shoot this part of it by ourselves, and if anybody in editing asks why, _tell_ them.”

“You got it,” Big Jo nodded. To Ed, she added, “Go wait by the van, McGuire and be glad I don’t make you walk back to the station.”

Muttering under his breath about ‘bitches who can’t take a joke,’ Ed left, deliberately slamming the front door behind him. Once he was gone, Big Jo gave a sigh of relief. “Okay, you want to lodge another complaint I’ll back you up a hundred percent, you know that, right?”

Sydney blinked away the dampness in her eyes. “Thanks. I’ll probably let this one pass, though. I’ve got bigger things to worry about.”

Big Jo nodded. “Gotcha. And congrats.”

“Thanks.”

They got through the shoot and Sydney was feeling a sense of relief when she heard a panicked yell from the front yard. Before Big Jo could even set her camera down, Sydney dashed out, catching herself on the porch as she saw Ed frozen in the middle of the front yard, and six feet away, Desmond in a stalking crouch, tail flicking back and forth in aggravation.

Shit.

Sydney stepped down, trying to keep an eye on both of them. Ed, she saw, had dropped his cigarette and a small smolder had started in the long grass. Desmond growled and from the scraping of his front paws, Sydney could see he was preparing to charge.

“Fuuuuuuckfuckfuck . . . .” Ed whined, cowering.

Double shit.

If he hit Ed, the weatherman would sizzle up like a fleshy lightning rod, and while that might be hilarious, it would also most likely be fatal, particularly for a man his age. She came down the steps and tried to distract Desmond, stepping between him and Ed.

Desmond didn’t bother looking up; he shifted one shoulder to peer around her, keeping his target in sight. Sydney took a deep breath. “No! Bad kitty!” she scolded, and held out a hand, sending a hard gust of wind to hit him in the face, hoping her body blocked that from Ed’s view.

Desmond bared his fangs at that. She repeated it, adding as much atmospheric moisture as she could to make it a wet gust this time. Crackling, Desmond shook his face and slunk off around the side of the house, distracted and pissed off. Sydney felt a pang of guilt and promised herself to make it up to the Splintercat later as she turned to glance at Ed, who was looking extremely pale.

“Jesus H. Christ! You, you saved me!” he spluttered. “Syd, you fucking _saved_ me!”

She wasn’t prepared for him to run to her and throw his arms around her, but somehow Sydney managed to stay on her feet, trying to soothe him. “Yeah, it’s okay, Ed. You’re going to be fine . . . .”

“Christ it was a _mountain lion_ ,” Ed babbled. “A cougar! We’ve got to call Animal Control, Syd! Jo! Did you catch any of that! Jesus!”

“I sure did!” Big Jo called from the porch. “It’s all here. Ed, you okay? I think you need to, ah, go clean up, man.”

“Oh! Ah, yeah, yeah. A damned panther!” he stumbled towards the house and Sydney realized the front of his trousers had a dark stain. As he passed by Big Jo, she came down to Sydney, smiling conspiratorially and patting the camera. Together they stomped out the cigarette sparks.

“It wasn’t on, so . . . your secret’s safe with me, Sydney. Or should I say Mist?”

Sydney sighed. “Just keep it on the down low, but yeah. And that _wasn’t_ a mountain lion, just . . . my cat. He’s very territorial.”

Big Jo laughed. “Yeah I could tell. Well our story is a wild cat tried to attack Ed and you chased it off. Once we get back to the station he’s gonna change that to how _he_ chased it from attacking _you_ , but we both know the _real_ version.”

Sydney smiled. “Hell, _he’s_ the one who has to walk into the station with soaked slacks. If it puts me one up on Ed McGuire, I call it a win. Thanks, Jo.”

\--oo00oo—

It took two cans of salmon and half an hour of petting before Desmond gave up his grudge but Sydney felt better once she felt his heavy purr rumble out. He lounged next to her on the sofa, lordly and happy as she laughed. “Okay, now that we’re back on good terms, thank you. Ed McGuire was definitely bad for me and the Bump, so thank you.”

The sun had set and the chill factor had gone up, but she walked in her bare feet to the front porch and looked out over the road, leaning against the rail there and resting a hand on her abdomen. “Sunsets are nice. When you get here I’ll show them to you,” she told the Bump softly. It felt a little silly to say things aloud, but nobody else could hear her at the moment.

She sighed, wishing she wasn’t alone.

A body hit the front steps of the porch, flashing into existence and thumping them hard. Sydney flinched, looking down at the sprawled form of Strange for a second before hurrying to reach him. “ _Stephen_?”

He grunted, rolling over. “Sydney . . . my sweet.”

She reached to lift his head up, alarmed at the bruises on his face, the slack look in his eyes. “Oh God, are you okay?”

“I’m home,” he managed, struggling to sit up. “Bath. Hot bath. Bed. Please.”

Sydney helped him up, and let him lean on her as they limped their way into the house together. He managed to levitate them both up the stairs but was so drained that she found herself helping Strange to undress as the bathtub filled. He let her, eyes closed as he leaned against the bathroom counter. “Sleep . . . I haven’t slept in a year.”

“You’ve been gone a week,” she felt compelled to point out.

Strange opened one eye. “In _this_ dimension. How fares our child?”

“We’re good,” Sydney told him, taking one of Strange’s hands and placing it on her abdomen. “Really appreciates my sandwiches.”

Strange gave a tired laugh. “Which one? The tuna and grape jelly? Or the roast beef, cheetos and hot sauce?”

“Those were last week. I’ve _expanded_ my cravings. You, into the tub.”

She knelt next to the claw-foot and helped to wash him, checking for injuries while Strange lay back in the hot water, resting. He was thinner and there were healed cuts along his arms as well as bruises. Sydney wanted to ask, but knew now wasn’t the right time, so instead she helped him out after a while and led him to bed. “I’ll go sleep in the spare room so you can rest,” she murmured.

“No,” Strange asked quietly. “Please. I shall sleep _better_ with you here, Sydney. You and the child are what . . . helped me make it _back_.” He pulled back the covers and she crawled in, timid about holding Strange but the minute she was in his arms he gave a contented sigh and closed his eyes. 

She wanted to wait until he was asleep to roll away, but drifted off herself before she could, sleeping as deeply as he did.


	12. Chapter 12

_The Journal of Stephen Strange_

_2nd night full moon_

_Have slept nearly nineteen hours straight, which has done wonders for my fatigue and healing, but not as much for my bladder. Sydney was not with me when I awoke but I sensed her and the child nearby. The warm weight next to me on the bed was Desmond, who seemed to feel entitled to share the space._

_I am glad the ordeal with the H’tahma is over and that I was able to keep the Great Gold City intact during the deciding battle, but as I told Sydney, it took a year of concentration to do it; consequently I am giving myself time to relax and recover. She seemed pleased by that decision and I confess I am looking forward to it myself. In the past I would go on retreat to some quiet place, but I far prefer to be here, with my . . . family._

Lakeview Cemetery was fairly empty of living people and Strange found it peaceful to walk with Sydney along the well-kept paths through the various sections. The air was fresh, and the feel of her hand in his was comforting. They’d strolled along without speaking for a while, content in being together, and when they reached the top of one of the gentle hills, Sydney squeezed his fingers. “Doing okay?”

He hesitated a moment before answering. “Not completely well yet, but getting better. It was more difficult than I anticipated, and had I known what it would have cost me, I would have enlisted help at the onset.”

“Learning to make that call that takes practice,” Sydney told him. “And I’m glad you survived it. Whatever I can do to make things easy for you, I’ll do--you _know_ that, right?”

He gave her a grateful glance. “I do. I spent a great deal of time considering you and our child. I have great hopes, and some fears about this endeavor of ours. I’m sure you do as well.”

Sydney nodded. “Yeah. I woke up the other day wondering if I was the intergalactic version of Mary, minus the virgin part. I mean, you said that our child was destined to save the planet . . . how do I even _begin_ to consider being a parent to a being like that?”

“We shall by being the best parents we _can_ ,” Strange replied. “My own parents were caring but not particularly affectionate. A generational attitude I suppose. I was far closer to my sister and brother than I was to them.”

“You had _siblings_?” Sydney gave him a surprised look.

“I did,” Strange assured her. “Did you think I was an only child?”

She nodded. “You _do_ have that aloof vibe.”

He sighed. “That is because I was the oldest. My sister Donna was two years younger, and my brother Victor eight years younger. Both were better to me than I was to them.”

There was a quiet pause, and Sydney turned to him. “I doubt it. I get the feeling you might have been bossy, but you loved them. It comes through in your voice. I’m sorry they’re gone.”

He accepted her hug, and after a moment returned it, feeling a bittersweet relief in Sydney’s simple observation. Strange hadn’t said either of their names aloud in years, and doing so moved something deep within him, making his chest feel lighter.

“Maybe we’re the chosen ones because we _know_ what it’s like to be alone,” Sydney murmured, pulling back and brushing his forelock lightly. “We’re . . . survivors.”

“There may be something _to_ that,” Strange agreed, adding, “my sweet.”

Because it was on the way back, they stopped in at The Mysterious Bookstore to browse. Stephen remembered the books tinged with magic, and focused on those, looking through the titles to see what they contained. A mixed lot to be sure, he realized.

One was a travel guide written in the 1800s, and he sensed the author had been cursed at some point on his journey since the sour magic clung to the binding like dark mold, tainting the tone of the book. He set that one back. Another was a book of home remedies from the 1930s and the sweet practical infusion of charms and folklore made it a pleasure to browse. Strange held onto that one, and went looking for the others.

The tint of earnest magic on a little Forest Service pamphlet about tree identification in the Northwest appealed to him too, and Strange collected that, wondering if there was a notation about Splintercats in it. Desmond would be insufferable if there _was_ , Strange suspected with a smirk. He sensed one more book, and followed the trace of it around a corner of bookcases to find Sydney there, holding a book on how to toilet train toddlers. She gave a little shrug of embarrassment but held on to it when he approached her. “I like to be ready,” came her admission.

“Planning is the key to success,” Strange agreed. “Although patience will probably come into play with that, too.” He looked up, following the little vibrations and reached up to pull on a small gold spine nearly hidden between bigger books. As he touched it, Strange felt a flush through him as the magic made itself known with hints of cardamom and incense.

He brought it down and Sydney looked over his arm at it. “It’s in Sanskrit?”

“Ancient Hindu actually, but that won’t be . . . a problem,” he told her slowly. “It’s . . . illustrated.”

She reached over to open the cover, blushed, and quickly flipped it closed again. “Stephen!”

“I simply followed the magic it was exuding,” he replied, working on his straight face. “I’m not responsible for _which_ books are infused with it.”

“So . . . you’re _buying_ it?” She sounded both embarrassed and intrigued, which made Strange chuckle.

“Oh yes, I think so. Given the emphatic lure of this particular tome, I would judge it was meant to _be_ in our collection.”

She shot it a glance again, biting her lower lip. “I’m not a prude, you know.”

“I do,” he agreed, waiting to hear her out. Sydney seemed to struggle a little, and finally leaned closer to him, her voice a low whisper. 

“I guess it’s just . . . I’m not convinced a lot of those positions are actually . . . pleasurable. The ones I’ve seen look like acrobat porn.”

That made him laugh, and Sydney blushed in response, looking desirable as she did so.

“All the more reason to see if there truly _is_ moderation in all things.” He collected her book, added it to his, and they slowly browsed their way to the register. Once there the tall man with the eyepatch rang them up, barely glancing at their purchases until he reached the home remedy book. “Ah, this is a good one; I’m glad you chose it,” he told Strange. “I knew the woman who wrote this book. Best home visit nurse ever.”

“I would not be surprised,” Strange replied politely. “I know I will enjoy it.”

The rest of the day was as leisurely, but Strange knew better than to push himself, and they headed home before sunset, picking up Chinese food along the way. Desmond looked up from his nap on the club chair but didn’t move until the first carton was opened.  
“No, I don’t think you’re going to _like_ Kung Pao,” Sydney told him as Strange served up the meal. “It’s hot.”

She put a few pieces on the floor nonetheless.

Two nibbles in and Desmond jumped back as if bitten. He hissed like a radiator, swatting at the piece of pepper, and stalked away as Sydney laughed, watching him go. “I warned you!”

“I don’t think he’s used to anything biting back,” Strange told her. “Speaking of biting . . . did you know that’s a part of the kama sutra?”

Sydney looked at him skeptically. “Biting?”

“Nips,” Strange corrected.

“I shouldn’t ask, but when did you get all familiar with _this_?” she waved a chopstick to make her point.

Strange served up the egg rolls. “I spent time in India and Tibet,” he reminded her. “And not all of it was . . . noble-minded.”

She grinned at him. “Oh _really_?”

“I should _hope_ recent past experience would assure you that I can be fairly carnal, Sydney Lenore. Despite the cape and amulet, I’m still human underneath.”

“Rowr!” she agreed cheerfully. “So you know how to read/interpret your book?”

Her enthusiasm cheered him and he nodded. “In layman’s terms—”

That made Sydney splutter through a mouthful and she choke-laughed as she sipped her wine. “G-good one!”

“Unintentional, but yes, I can muddle through the text, although the illustrations are much more . . . helpful.” It was fun flirting with her, especially when she blushed.

“O-kay then, we should definitely do some reading before bed, then,” Sydney replied as demurely as she could through a smile.

Strange noted that this particular edition was nearly a century old, and the gilt edge still gleamed as he opened it. Sydney sprawled next to him under the covers, gloriously nude and looking mischievous—a particularly good combination, he knew from past experience.

“Okay, not _that_ one,” she announced, looking at the first page. “For one thing, I’m not going to have you strain yourself, and for another, she looks uncomfortable.”

“Perhaps when I’m more recovered,” he agreed, turning the page. “Ah, _this_ has possibilities.”

Sydney studied the page. “Yes, but what about falling over? You have to admit it could happen with this one.”

“A _remote_ possibility. Moving on . . .”

The next page made both of them smile and Strange felt a sense of destiny. And strong arousal. Next to him, Sydney gave a happy sigh. “Oh bingo! Yeah, I think we have a winner here. What’s it called?”

He ran a finger under the text. “Bandoleer. It’s recommended for those who are . . . less endowed, but still considered yoni-centered.”

Strange felt her hand slide down his stomach. “Well even though you don’t qualify in that category, I’m certainly willing to give this one a try if you are.”

The easiest response was to let the book drift up out of his hands to the nightstand as he rolled to take her in his arms. She snuggled into them, moving to kiss him but Strange gave a chuckle. “Biting,” he reminded her. “Small nips, teethings, nibbles. These are part of sacred positions.”

A sigh. “The things I _do_ for you,” she muttered, but gave a gasp when he brushed his goatee against her shoulder, following it with teeth.

Biting worked, Strange realized quickly. The feel of Sydney’s teeth under the heat of her lips put the tiniest hint of pain to the pleasure to each one. He worked to be gentle but she goaded him on with happy little growls of her own, her skin pebbling up in response to his every nip. By the time she was heavy-lidded and restless, he shifted Sydney to her back and moved down, kneeling by her hips.

“Your feet . . . here,” he told her, catching her shins and lifting until Sydney’s soles were pressed to his warm chest. “Are you ready?”

“Yesssss,” she assured him, wriggling a little. Strange guided his shaft between her hips, sliding into the slick cleft, groaning as the slippery squeeze engulfed him. Sydney gave a little yowl of delight rocking her hips up.

He rested his crossed forearms on her shins, stroking into her, shuddering at how sensually intense each thrust was. The lovely sight of Sydney writhing under him, breasts bouncing had him enthralled as did the sound of her cries of pleasure. She reached down to grab his thighs and pull him deeper, both of them savoring the sensations for a while.

“Can’t . . . _kiss_ you,” she chuffed, voice hazy and sweet. “Only con.”

Strange dropped one hand down her bent legs, pressing a palm against her fluffy vulva. The added pressure had her climaxing a few strong thrusts later, and the throbs of that against his aching prick were too much to resist. Strange came himself, heat and chills wracking his frame in luscious waves as thunder rattled the windows.

He sagged, held up mostly by Sydney’s feet still on his chest. She slid them around his ribs, letting him drop lightly on her, giggling as she held him tightly.

“It’s been so very _long_ ,” he murmured.

“A week,” she chided, kissing him.

“A _year_ ,” Strange corrected. “And in all that time, I thought of you and our child. Not the good I was doing, or the balance of the universes, but of the way you smile, and the scent of your skin, and the quiet hope that is as perfect and encompassing as a pearl’s sheen on this home.”

She said nothing, her arms tightening around him, and he felt her sobs rather than heard them, kissing away the wet trails down her face.


	13. Chapter 13

_3:20, Wednesday, cold, snow on the way._

_I forgot to buy lotion. And because I forgot to buy lotion, I ended up very grumpy this morning. Five months along now and I can’t fit into my pants anymore. I’ve got some sweats and I know I need to go buy some outfits but I don’t WANT to because everything I buy now will be winter stuff and expensive and I’m just . . . I don’t know. Cranky I guess._

_Part of it is the dreams. I love the good ones where I get to talk to the Bump and get happy responses. Still a glowy ball in my dreams but much chattier. I know the baby likes chocolate and guitar music and when I ride elevators. Baby does NOT like it when Doctor Mayfair takes blood or when I go out in the snow or when I forget to eat._

_But I’ve had a few nightmares too. Mostly being chased by something, which I guess is typical, but it’s more terrifying because I know I can’t move fast right now, and I HAVE to protect the baby. The first time I had one I woke up holding back a scream and couldn’t go back to sleep for hours. Stephen wasn’t home at the time but I told him about it and he was comforting. The next time it happened he was there and was sort of half in and out of my mind defending me as I woke up, which was weird but I was grateful._

The mall was crowded with holiday shoppers and Sydney tried not to tense up. Next to her Strange looked just as uncomfortable as she felt. “It’s as if the whole of Seattle is here,” he observed.

“Feels like it, yeah.” She turned to him and gave him a bleak look. “Stephen . . . I have to tell you—I don’t really do Christmas.”

He met her gaze. “Oh?”

“Yeah. The holidays have never been much of a good time for me, really. Sorry about that.”

“It’s all right,” he told her, although she sensed a touch of disappointment in him and it made her feel like shit. “It can be a difficult time of the year.”

“Damn it, this is hard. Look, I don’t know what your . . . traditions and expectations are. Maybe you grew up with big fancy trees and hot chocolate and tons of presents,” Sydney sighed. “Sleigh rides and carols and all of that Currier and Ives stuff. I didn’t. But I know this relationship not all about _me_ , so if _you_ want to do things I’ll go along with it. Just . . . understand when I’m not all full of cheer at times, okay?”

He squeezed her hand. “Thank you for telling me,” Strange replied. “I appreciate your honesty, Sydney, and I do understand. Given all that you’ve gone through while growing up it makes a great deal of sense.”

She sighed. “Yeah. It’s better now. For years I used to hide out in my apartment through the season, but after I started seeing a psychologist it got better.”

“Change takes time,” Strange agreed. “In the meantime, let’s see about getting you your sweaters.”

They slowly made their way through the throngs to the fancy maternity shop, Buttercup. Sydney gave Strange a compassionate look. “You can wait outside if you’d like.”

“I don’t mind accompanying you. It was rather the point of the trip,” he reminded her and she smiled. 

The shop was full of women in every stage of pregnancy, including one tiny mother-to-be who looked like a balloon ready to pop. She waddled around, barely taller than the clothing racks, followed by three little girls who seemed to be triplets.

In a matter of minutes, Sydney found three pairs of pants and a few tops that had potential. Strange was impressed with her speed. “It helps to have looked on-line beforehand,” she pointed out. “I like to be efficient.”

“Clearly,” he agreed. Sydney realized several of the women in the shop had been surreptitiously eyeing Strange, looking at him like hens circling an exotic rooster in their midst. He _was_ handsome, she acknowledged, carrying off the dark turtleneck and pea coat exceedingly well. Even the elderly clerk at the counter seemed interested in him, and Sydney felt an unexpected flare of jealousy.

It startled her, this possessiveness. She’d actually stepped closer to him without even realizing it, and Strange gave her a curious glance. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, I think I’m ready to go.” Sydney added, “Um, just FYI, everyone here thinks you’re hot.”

She nearly laughed at the way his brows drew together in confusion, and nudged Strange towards the line at the counter. “Don’t stress about it. It’s hormonal, I think.”

As they waited behind the tiny mother and her triplets, another woman moved to stand behind them, giving Sydney a friendly smile. “Good choices,” she indicated the tops.

“Yeah, I hope they last until delivery,” Sydney agreed.

“Amen to that. How far along are you?” the woman asked. “Is your dad here excited about it too?”

Sydney froze. Strange turned to look at the woman, giving her his best frost-tinged glare. “My _fiancée’s_ father passed away several years ago, alas. She’s five months last week and we are delighted.”

“Oh . . . I’m so sorry. I mean, I’m happy for you . . . I mean . . .” the woman flustered, going bright red in the face.

Taking pity on her, Sydney gave her a half-smile. “Did you want to go ahead of us?”

“Ah, yes,” the woman squeaked, scooting up to the counter as the tiny mother left with her chattering brood. Sydney let her and looked at Strange, who was stony-faced.

“Stop it,” she whispered. “It was unintended assumption.”

“It was rude,” he muttered back. “And wrong, and embarrassing.”

“Stephen, how many years apart are we?” Sydney prodded gently. 

He was silent a moment, seeming to struggle before admitting, “Several.”

“And do they make any damned difference?” She asked. “In the true scheme of things? Does it matter what other people might think when _we_ know _what_ we’re doing and _why_ we’re doing it?”

“Of course not. However it’s still distressing to be reminded of our age difference no matter what the circumstances,” he grumbled. “Part of my initial hesitation in this entire venture was based on that fact. I _am_ old enough to be your father, my sweet, and at _times_ , it does in fact, bother me.”

The transaction ahead of them finished, the woman slinking away as Sydney put her purchases on the counter. She looked back at Strange and told him quietly, “I understand. Let me reassure _you_ , though, that the age difference doesn’t make any difference to _me_. I’m much more likely to fret about how much more education you have than I do, and how much more worldly and experienced you are at nearly _everything_. The fact that you’ve even chosen to hang around through this pregnancy is still astonishing to me because next to you I’m still barely _sidekick_ material let alone faux fiancée.”

She let him digest that while the salesclerk chatted about sales and store cards. When everything was bagged up and they left the shop, Strange steered her through the crowds to the little Waffle World near the side doors of the mall. “Lunch,” he told her, his expression still pre-occupied. After they’d been seated and handed menus, she looked across at him expectantly.

“I’m sorry,” Strange told her in a quiet voice. “I had no idea that you felt these things and I have never intended you to feel undervalued or cowed in any _way_ , Sydney.”

She moved to interrupt, but he shook his head and went on. “We’re very different and yet those differences are . . . refreshing, entertaining, and intriguing. You are so much of what is good about the world, and you . . . make me enjoy it again. Coffee; lovemaking; books; snow . . . the tangibles that I’ve lost touch with in the course of my vocation. I had no idea how far I’d drifted away from the daily pleasures of a _life_ , Sydney Lenore. So despite whatever education or worldly experience I may or may not have, it’s nothing compared to what you have shown me in this last six months.”

She blinked, trying not to let herself tear up. “Stephen--”

The waiter popped up, his earnest round face a little pink. “Hi folks ready to order?”

“Not yet,” Sydney told him, and waited until he’d given a nod and promise to return before looking back at Strange. “That was beautiful and pretty much what I needed to hear. _Thank_ you.”

“Thank _you_ ,” he returned, finally giving a brief smile. “And as for being affianced, I recall you telling me that we needn’t be married _now_ , which implies the possibility in the future. I could go look, but that would be cheating.”

She blushed. The entire idea of being married was a bit overwhelming. Sydney had always been cautious where she invested her heart, but it was impossible to deny that this man had become so much more than just the father of their baby. “Ah, that’s very . . . possible, but right now we’re already dealing with a lot, and I want to be sure we can handle what we’re already facing down the road. That’s not a no, just . . . a rain check?”

“A rain check from the woman who controls the weather,” Strange flashed her an understanding smile. “Apt, and . . . probably wise. Futures are tricky, even for those of us who sense where we’re headed.”

“They are, aren’t they?” she agreed, relieved. “Oh that reminds me—should we check on the sex of the baby? Doctor Mayfair’s got my ultrasound scheduled the day after tomorrow and we can find out.”

“I prefer to wait,” he told her. “And if you choose to find out, that’s up to you.”

“I’ll wait too then,” Sydney sighed. A moment later she added, “I guess we’re both feeling a little at loose ends, huh?”

“Yes, which is why comfort food is the order of the day.”

After waffles with peaches and hash browns, Sydney felt some sense of balance return. She glanced over at Strange, who was looking less stressed as well. “Tell you what—let’s work on some holiday compromises. What are the top three things _you’d_ like, and the top three things _I’d_ like, and we can work from there.”

And that was how they ended up with lights strung everywhere throughout West Haven both inside and out. There was no tree; instead a long green and red quilt hung on a wall in the living room decorated with ornaments pinned on it. Periodically Desmond eyed them but aside from batting a lower one left it all alone. At the fireplace hearth, Sydney and Strange left shoes instead of hanging stockings.

Later, curled up with him in the low light of the embers, Sydney told him.

“My dad left us at Christmas back when I was four, and my mom never got over that. The holidays reminded her of it every year and that always meant a lot more drinking. Most of the time I stayed out of the way but when I was eleven, I made the mistake of saying _I_ wished I could just leave too. . . so after she got tired of hitting me with a fancy stocking filled with a bottle of Maker’s Mark, I hid in the garage to wait it out,” she sighed. “I’d done it before, even had a sort of nest of old clothes under the workbench. But this time she locked me in. I couldn’t get out after she’d passed out in the house and the temperature dropped pretty low. I got sick—pneumonia,” Sydney told him quietly. “It . . . sucked.”

“Wasn’t there _anyone_ who could have intervened?” Strange asked as he tightened his arms around her.

“Some people suspected, I’m sure,” Sydney replied. “But they couldn’t do much, and here’s what gets misunderstood—I thought this was normal. I grew up thinking _everybody’s_ family had stuff like this going on and we all just didn’t talk about it. That was my belief for a long time.”

Strange slowly drew in a breath. “It’s inexcusable that you suffered that way, and yes, I can see now why Christmas isn’t a good time for you.”

Sydney gave a little laugh. “Year by year I’ve worked on it, and it’s a lot better than it used to be. I _do_ like the lights and the music. Even the jolly Mall Santas are kind of funny.”

“Ohhhh, not to me,” Strange told her. She looked over her shoulder at him and he gave a slow nod. “I too, have painful memories.”

She caught the twinkle in his eyes and smirked. It felt good to lighten the mood. “Okay then, spill.”

“When I was eight, I was quite eager to find out what presents had been left for me,” Strange began. “So I made my way out to the living room, doing my best to stay quiet. When I had nearly reached it, I heard . . . sounds.”

Sydney realized what he meant by the arch of his eyebrow and started giggling. “No!”

“Oh yes, I caught my parents in flagrante delicto, under the Christmas tree, and to my horror, my father was _in_ . . . a Santa suit,” Strange intoned, shaking his head. “My little mind could not take in this profanity, and I stumbled back to bed, trying to scour the image from my brain. It wasn’t their carnality that bothered me as much as their delight in the perversity of it all. To this day, I cannot hear _one_ particular Christmas song without shuddering.”

She lost it, laughing against his shoulder, feeling the rumble of his own chuckles through his shirt. After a while Sydney managed to catch her breath, feeling ridiculously happy. She tilted her face up to kiss his smile.  
“I needed that,” she told him, “and I didn’t even _know_ I did.”

“I feel the same way,” Strange murmured. He slid his hand down to rest on the rounded bulge of her stomach. “And while we may do many things to embarrass our child, none will involve a Santa suit.”

“How do you feel,” Sydney asked innocently, “About stocking caps?”


	14. Chapter 14

_The Journal of Stephen Strange_

_Gibbous moon_

_At nearly seven months, Sydney is changing every day. Both Wilhelmina and I are keeping a close watch on her of course but her general health is robust and her complaints are both minor and common for her situation. I do what I can to make her comfortable and it is difficult to be parted from her for any length of time at this point. How odd to finally recognize paternal instincts for what they are._

_However there are legitimate concerns for her dream-depths, and I am aware that the dark malevolence that once hunted our little entity is no longer on that plane of existence. I have warned both Sydney and the child of this and we are all being cautious and alert. Just because we are in this reality is no guarantee that the darkness cannot abide here as well._

The gloom of February held with grey overcast most mornings. Strange found himself missing New York a bit; at least there was more light in the city, albeit artificial. It didn’t help that the solstice had passed and the vernal equinox was approaching; consequently the rise of dimensional disturbances kept him busy repairing rifts and battling all sorts of evil.

Wong offered to come to Seattle to keep watch over Sydney but Strange declined. “It’s a generous suggestion and I thank you for it, but far more clients and associates come here to the Sanctum seeking me out and I’d prefer they not know of the home in Seattle,” he explained.

“True,” Wong agreed. “Although should it become necessary, I have arranged a secure floor for Ms Todd and the child to stay here too. Strong as your incantations are, it would seem wise to have options.”

“It would,” Strange agreed. “As her delivery nears, I fear the hunting darkness will strike, knowing her to be incapacitated during that time.”

“Would you prefer for her to give birth here?” Wong asked. “It may be the better choice.”

“I will discuss it with Sydney,” Strange nodded. “Although I suspect she will want to stay in Seattle. If it’s not an option though, at least we will be prepared.”

*** *** ***   
He was getting fond of patting the roundness of Sydney’s expanding abdomen; when Strange pressed his hands there he sensed the child, who was always pleased to greet him.

“Every time you do that, the Bump starts wiggling,” Sydney pointed out. “Like a puppy in a pet shop window!”

“Exuberance,” Strange told her with a hint of gloat. “Our child _knows_ me.”

“No excuse for giving me heartburn,” she mock-grumbled back. “Speaking of hearts, you haven’t forgotten we’re going out to dinner tomorrow, right?”

“Of course not,” he bluffed, keeping his attention on her tummy. 

“It’s _Valentine’s_ Day,” Sydney reminded him dryly. “You _do_ know what that is, right?”

“Valentine’s Day?” Strange looked up, ever so slightly panicked. “Ah, that’s the _romantic_ one, yes?”

Sydney gave a sigh. “Yes it is,” she enunciated slowly. “I’ve made reservations and we’re going to Trop Cher overlooking Elliot Bay for a lovely meal come hell or high water.”

“I hope it doesn’t come to _either_ of those,” Strange replied. “Yes, dinner tomorrow night. For Valentine’s Day.”

He wasn’t precisely worried, but it dawned on Strange that romance was not his strong suit. As a younger man he’d pursued his share of women with gratifying success which had certainly added to his egotistic and selfish ways. Then years of wandering in depression and anger had kept him from relationships in general. Now there was Sydney, who had come into his life from a wholly unexpected angle that hadn’t included romance . . . initially. But Things had been Said in the heat of passion that weren’t exactly denied in daylight even if they weren’t discussed. 

However this date was clearly a sign of softening on Sydney’s part, and Strange felt a pang of elation. This was an opening; a chance to say in daylight what they truly felt for each other. She’d made it clear this was an important night and on that thought, Strange checked to see what was the standards were for Valentine’s Day. 

As he looked, he felt a twinge of unease. Flowers were expected, but he had no idea what her favorites were and it would be too crass to ask at this point. Chocolates were also considered de rigueur, yet again, Strange wasn’t sure of her preferences—white? Milk? Dark? Too many chances for a faux pas. Cards seemed to be part of the holiday too although the selections left at this late date were either ridiculously vapid or kitsch.

There was one option left, and fortunately Strange knew exactly what was called for, relieved at the realization. Perhaps he had been a bit rusty when it came to romance, but it wasn’t too late to rectify that.

*** *** ***

“Crowded,” Sydney sighed, standing close to him near the maître’d’s booth. They and several other people were still waiting to be seated as the loud crush of diners, waiters and busboys filled the main room of Trop Cher. Strange looked around, his arm around Sydney’s waist.

“A bit. If we are not seated in five minutes I will speak to the management,” Strange told her. “In your condition you shouldn’t have to wait.”

She sighed. “I hate to play the preggo card but I’m not going to last long in these heels. I’m lucky they fit at all.”

Strange smiled at her. The dark red silk blouse set off her pale complexion and dark hair wonderfully, and he enjoyed her perfume as he leaned towards her. “You look lovely.”

“Thank you. _You_ look pretty yummy yourself,” Sydney murmured approvingly. He didn’t quite preen but it felt nice she’d noticed his charcoal grey suit.

I’ve been looking forward to this,” Sydney admitted. “It’s been a long week, what with the wind gauge blowing away, and being called to deal with the new software updates at the station. Oh, and Desmond brought home a . . . thing. A dead thing he was pretty pleased about and I wasn’t.”

Strange made a sympathetic noise, working hard not to sound amused. After waiting, he spoke to the Maître d’ who noted Sydney’s stomach and winced. “A few minutes more I’m afraid, sir—”

It stretched into twenty minutes and when they finally were taken to a table it was squeezed up against the window in the corner of the room. Sydney sat down, clearly glad to be off her feet, her expression pained.

“At last,” she sighed. “Don’t tell anyone but I’m taking my shoes off under the table.”

When the waiter eventually showed up, Sydney had gone to the restroom, leaving her order with him. When she came back, they still didn’t have water or drinks. Strange saw her press her lips together. “I guess this will show _me_ for trying to book one of the most popular places for Valentine’s.”

Strange resorted to a mild mesmeric gaze to pull a passing waiter to them. “Water please, and a whiskey sour.”

“I hear and obey,” the dazed hipster replied.

Sydney watched him go and giggled. “I shouldn’t laugh but that was funny,” she admitted. “Thank you.”

“It _is_ becoming borderline ridiculous,” Strange admitted, leaning over the table to be heard. Sydney nodded and was about to add something else when a shout broke through the noisy conversations.

Three men pushed the waiting customers ahead of them into the dining room. One of them stepped forward.

“Everybody on the floor! NOW!” came the order from the man in the balaclava and black hoodie who was holding a glock. “I want your wallets and watches and purses!” He fired a round into the ceiling for emphasis, the report deafening in the room. “Don’t make me ask twice or I WILL use this on you.”

People scrambled to the carpet; silverware and dishes rattled and fell, screams echoed.

Strange lunged in front of Sydney without thinking, turning to face the robbers. He twisted his hands, pulling power from the energies in the room, using it to yank away the guns. Two flew into the air; the leader of the group had a stronger grip and turned to seek out the threat. “Stop or _someone_ will get killed!” he yelled.

Someone yelped. Strange realized the robbers deliberately were standing at the doorway, blocking the exit. They had a clear view of the entire room, and anyone moving would be a target at this point. He focused on the leader, preparing to encase the man in a force field.

“God damn it!” Sydney groused, gripping the table and heaving herself up. She flung an arm towards the robber and a huge cloud formed over him, thick and black, radiating ozone. 

Shaken out of his concentration, Strange shot her a sidelong glance. “No!”

“Yes!” she shot back. “ _All_ I wanted was a NICE romantic dinner out with maybe a little dessert and some nookie afterwards but this just takes the fucking CAKE!”

A strike of lightning hit two inches in front of the robber, followed by the hard slam of a cloudburst all the more impressive for being the same diameter as the average recliner. The heavy crush of the cold rain made him sag forward. The other two robbers, weaponless now, pushed their way back out of the restaurant, running hard.

“But NOOOOO, not only did we have to _wait,_ and _not_ get served but now some JACKASS has to ruin it by trying to ROB us!”

Sydney waddled over to the edge of the storm she’d created and reached in, grabbing the glock and tossing it away. “Thanks a LOT, Fuckwad!”

Strange scrambled forward, grabbing her by the shoulders. “My sweet, think of the child,” he murmured, trying to turn her away from the kneeling robber who was trying to crawl out of the storm. Another lightning bolt struck right between his hands and the man whimpered.

“Okay, okay, you’re right,” Sydney muttered. She bent forward to glare at the robber. “Stay the fuck _there_ , dickhead, until the cops get here. And don’t you ever, EVER try this again. _Especially_ on Valentine’s Day!”

She lumbered out with as much dignity as she could and Strange turned, waving a quick surge of Confusion through the majority of the room before following her out. Most of the patrons wouldn’t remember the exact events; the few that did wouldn’t be able to describe either of them well.

At the curb, he caught up with Sydney, who was crying. She slipped into his arms and he hugged her tight, conjuring a spell to conceal and carry them aloft into the night. They flew back over the lights of Seattle until they reached West Haven.

He carried her inside and up the stairs, wondering if he could teleport Wilhelmina at this hour as he gently laid Sydney on the bed.

“Shit. I ruined tonight,” she sobbed wiping one cheekbone with the heel of her hand. “I didn’t _mean_ to, Stephen, I really didn’t. But it was just the last straw!”

“I know, I know,” he murmured soothingly. “It really was despicable. But you were magnificent. A little reckless perhaps, but given the aggravation I understand. Right now I’d be happy to make us poached eggs and I know there’s a quart of French Silk in the freezer.”

Sydney gave a deep sigh. “Yes please. And thank you.”

Desmond sensed comfort was needed and curled up at their feet while they ate on the living room sofa. It was long enough for Sydney to stretch out and rest against Strange’s chest. Fortunately the eggs turned out perfectly, and the ice cream went down well.

“Well we saved a lot of people and didn’t have to leave a tip, so I guess that’s a win, although now Seattle’s going to know I was at the restaurant AND that I’m pregnant,” Sydney sighed.

“Possibly,” Strange agreed. “Although the details are muddled. The evening isn’t over yet though . . . I do have a gift for you.”

She tilted her head back to look up at the underside of his goatee. “Really? You didn’t have to do that!”

“I wanted to,” Strange assured her. “It’s my prerogative, my sweet.” He fished out the little box and handed it to her, pleased to see her eyes brighten.

Once the lid was off, Sydney cooed. “Oh Stephen . . .”

“Natural Tanzanite,” he rumbled. “And I’m sure you recognize the shape.”

“Yes I do,” she replied in awe. “Very romantic, Doctor Strange. Please help me put it on?”

The facets cut into the violet stone twinkled as the heart sat just above her cleavage. Sydney turned her head to kiss him and he caught her mouth with tenderness. When she pulled back, she blinked a little.

“So many firsts with you . . . first flowers, first home . . . first jewelry. It’s so wonderful and scary at the same time.”

That hit hard. Strange nodded. “Firsts take courage and _you_ have so much of that, my sweet. _You_ said yes to our child, _you_ seduced me, _you_ have given me more than I ever deserved in this venture by telling me you loved me . . . _first_. However, I will say it here and now. I _love you_ , which is a _first_ for me.”

She shivered. “Don’t make me cry!” Sydney told him with a lopsided smile. “Just . . . take me to bed and we’ll bring in the thunder together, sweetheart.”

“Yes,” he laughed. “We can do that.”


	15. Chapter 15

_Tuesday, 10:13 More snow_

_Scared. Bad dream, **really** bad dream. I’m not getting a lot of sleep unless I’m hanging onto Stephen and letting him stand watch in my head. That sounds so weird but it’s the only way I can explain it, or relax or rest._

_They’re leaking over into the daytime. Whenever I’m alone I feel like I’m being watched. It’s like there’s a shadow just out of the corner of my vision that isn’t there when I turn to look. It’s making me jumpy as hell. I’ve got six weeks to go and it’s as if all my inner fears are taking physical form. I am so scared of fucking this up._

The baby shower was unexpected, but sweet. Jack had organized it and Sydney was touched by her all-male team’s attempt. Mostly cake and ice cream, but they’d chipped in a bought a top of the line baby stroller so complicated that it had its own manual. They’d teased her about the Valentine’s Day Massacre as they called it, and urged her to take it easy.

“Seriously, Syd—you’re making the rest of us look bad by taking on crime while you’re pregnant,” John had mock-chided her. “Leave some bad guys for _us_ , okay?”

“I was provoked, and anyway you guys are already busy picking up the slack,” she teased back, enjoying being able to catch up with them for the afternoon. “Gotten any new applicants?”

“A few,” Jack admitted, and he discussed them with her as the party wound down. When she finally left, full of cake and good memories, Sydney headed back to West Haven, feeling more content than she had in a while. She missed the team but it was nice not to have to respond to any call for action at any hour of the day, too. Maybe she’d go back to it someday.

“Okay,” she addressed the Bump as they drove home. “Since I don’t know if you’re going to be a boy or a girl, we need to discuss names. I’m considering Celeste or Caleb—what do you think?”

The Bump sent a note of cheer and kicked hard, making Sydney wince a little. “Oof! So I’m guessing you _like_ those. Good. I do too. We’ll run them by your father and see what he thinks. And you know,” she added, “If you end up needing _both_ of them, uhhh, that’s okay too. I’m not sure how much of Stephen and I you’ll be like but we love you already so there’s that.”

She’d gotten into the habit of talking to the Bump often, describing what she was doing, sharing stories and information, (“And _this_ is a barometer, which measures atmospheric pressure. Most people don’t really understand it but _we_ do, don’t we, sweetie?”) and generally sharing her day. At first she felt a little silly doing it, but over the last few months it had become second nature. It was comforting, Sydney admitted to herself, and given how the Bump responded, either in movement or little psychic blips of emotion, very gratifying. It was . . . bonding.

And Strange was a part of that too. He liked to touch the Bump, his elegant hands splaying protectively over her abdomen. Some nights he read aloud to her and the child, choosing a range of books from American Native tales of the Pacific Northwest to the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam. It amused Sydney that he always spoke to the Bump in the same adult conversational tone he used all the time; no baby talk or infantile phrases. It was so very him, she thought fondly.

Things would have been perfect if it wasn’t for the nightmares.

From the beginning Strange had warned her that the malevolence from the desert dimension might well have figured out how to travel forward; that it may have developed the capacity to track the entity psychically. The most vulnerable time was when she was asleep and her mental defenses were down, he explained, and that meant he should stand watch while she slept.

She’d argued, but after a few more nights of jolting awake in sweaty terror, Sydney had exhaustedly given in and allowed Strange to mentally link with her.

“Just . . . there’s a lot in my head you don’t need to see,” she’d told him, embarrassed and slightly sullen. “A lot of stuff I’m not proud of or able to get rid of.”

“Sydney my sweet,” he’d responded in his patient rumble, “That’s part of human nature. I too, have a great deal of what is the term? Baggage? Painful memories, regrets, prejudices, unresolved problems, salacious fantasies--”

She’d given him a broken smirk. “Okay stop _right_ there. Yes, I get it. I just . . . giving you access to that, even for the good of the Bump is . . . really _hard_ , Stephen. It could change things between us.”

And he’d held her, whispering low in her ear. “I will respect whatever borders and boundaries you set, beloved. You’ve trusted me this far; _know_ I can be trusted further.”

And Sydney did.

The first night he slipped into her dreams she spotted him a little off, waiting and giving her that little smile where only one corner of his mouth lifted. The instant sense of comfort was palpable, and Sydney wandered off in her own thoughts for the rest of the night, vaguely aware of Strange’s soft presence nearby. When she woke up, fully rested, she kissed him.

“Your turn to sleep,” she’d told him lovingly. “Thank you.”

He kissed her back, stifling a yawn. “You’re welcome.”

It had become their norm in these last weeks. He would guard her dreams during the night, and sleep himself from when she woke until early mid-afternoon. Sydney felt much better physically, and looked in on Strange often to make sure he slept well himself. The sight of him sprawled out made her smile, as did his occasional mumbles about the ‘hoary hosts of Hoggoth.’ 

The fact that he’d gotten in to the habit of sleeping nude amused her greatly as well. Strange had started off their co-habitation in pajamas and of course his amazing velvet robe, but during the course of their relationship they’d both succumbed to the seduction of mutually bare skin. It was sensual and wonderfully comforting in the chill of the season. Sydney loved running her hands over him, from chest to all points south, gratified that even in this late stage of pregnancy Strange responded ardently to her.

“You are my lover,” he pointed out. “Pregnant or not, you arouse me by merely _existing_ , my sweet.”

“Did we let the libido genie out of the bottle?” Sydney teased as they cuddled one evening. Both of them had become fond of a position called Curled Angel where he spooned around her spine and the slow foreplay for it always delighted her.

“ _We_ ,” Strange scoffed lightly. “It was all _you_ , seductress.”

“I have never been a seductress in my life,” She protested. “I’ve just been honest when it comes to sexual attraction.”

“For which I am extremely grateful,” Strange assured her as he slid a hand down her ass and between the backs of her thighs. “Perhaps I can demonstrate another way . . . .”

“Ohh, yes, please,” she agreed. 

There was something about his gentleness that undid her emotionally. They’d had times of wilder, rougher passion and moments of sensual silliness too, but when Strange made love with to her slow erotic sweetness Sydney bloomed, feeling no inhibitions at all, either in words or actions. His ability to bring her time and time again to the edge of pleasure was as addictive as was his own open hunger for her. 

She loved him, and felt like a goddess when his control would finally break and his desire flooded deep within her. If Sydney hadn’t already climaxed by then, the gift of his orgasm never failed to drive her over the edge as well.

Afterwards as she drifted off, content and drowsy, it dawned on her that she hadn’t mentioned the two names to him, and promised herself she would in the morning.

\--oo00oo—

_She drifted, looking at a snowy wooded area. Sydney knew this from ages past—the short cut through back lot behind her elementary school. She walked towards it, stepping in._

_The trees were huge and suddenly it was too dark, too tall. She spun around, looking for the path out but every time she nearly found it, it was blocked by branches. Sydney pushed, but the snow froze on her old sneakers. She turned . . ._

_And now she was in a flea market. People pushed by, talking and ignoring her. Sydney let herself relax a little and moved towards a shop full of ribbons. They dangled and she reached to pull one but the spool fell and rolled into the street. Mortified she tried to collect it but kept uncoiling and rolling further away. As she stepped into the road hands grabbed her shoulders in a painful *familiar* grip . . . Those claws, Oh GOD those claws!_

She jolted awake, heart beating rapidly, the Bump sending quick pangs of terror through her. Sydney reached for her shoulder as she turned her head to look at Strange.

He was asleep. And in the pale light from the window, Sydney saw drops of blood well from the small moon-shaped cuts in her skin. Icy dread flooded through her body and she gave a low wail of fear that started Strange awake.

“Sydney!”

“You fell _asleep_!” she hissed, angry and panicked. “God damn it, you fell _asleep_ on me!”

“My sweet, I didn’t mean—” He tried to soothe her but she struggled to sit up and pull away from Strange.

“But you DID, and she got me!” Sydney growled, wiping the blood with one shaky hand. “Fuck!”

“She—”

“My _mother_.”

Strange touched her shoulder, his hand glowing as he slid his palm over the wounds, drawing out little wisps of darkness from each nail mark. As he did so, Sydney shuddered, wrapping her arms around her stomach protectively.

Neither one of them said anything for several long moments. Finally Strange threw back the covers and climbed out of bed, coming around to Sydney’s side and kneeling next to her. “My sweet . . .”

“Stephen . . .” her voice shook. “I know you didn’t _mean_ to fall asleep, but if that, that thing can get into my head that easily . . . I’m not sure I can DEAL with any of this anymore!”

He slid his hands up her thighs to cup the rounded bulge of the baby, concentrating. The soothing warmth seeped through, and under his touch he felt the child respond, unclenching. Once that happened, Sydney herself relaxed a bit as well. 

He rose up, pulling her to her feet and into his arms. “Darkness,” Strange sighed. “It works _through_ darkness. I should have realized that before this. Sydney, there are many types of darkness, but they converge, and this malevolence knows that, _uses_ that.”

“That . . . makes sense,” she agreed. “Absence of light is absence of courage?”

“Something like that,” Strange told her. “I propose we both sleep in the daytime. Further, we need to see Wilhelmina and Wong and ask their assistance both now and when you give birth because the more of us there are to keep back the darkness, the better. We have been in the halcyon days my sweet, and how face the coming storm.”

She made a face. “I know it’s going to be bad when you start using classical references.”

“They apply,” he murmured, nuzzling her. “And I am so very _sorry_ , Sydney.”

Her arms tightened around him. “I know. It’s all right.”

They stood together for a while, the bulge of the baby between them, secure for the moment.


	16. Chapter 16

_The Journal of Stephen Strange_

_Waning moon. Approaching darkness._

_Battle-lines are now being drawn, and I am all too aware of how short the remaining time is before my beloved gives birth. The Darkness has made forays into our dimension, following the traces of the child and working through Sydney’s mental defenses to attack both of them._

_She is strong, but the constant strain added to the physical burden yet to come is wearing her down. I have enlisted aid from Wilhelmina and Wong and their assistance is proving invaluable in making sure Sydney has rest and I have time to reinforce the weapons I will need in this unavoidable confrontation. Never before have I been so keenly aware of my own fears—not for myself, but for my beloved and my child._

The shift from day to night helped, and Strange found that Seattle was beautiful after sunset, even in the chill of late winter. He’d become fond of the city without even realizing it, and part of that lay in how much Sydney was devoted to it. She and her city were much alike, he mused. Both had unique personalities and unexpected beauty with hidden depths. 

And both, he thought mischievously, had a wilder side.

Strange rose from his perch on the roof and Desmond did too, stretching fluidly. Together they’d fended off a small swarm of bone bats and enjoyed a moment of camaraderie looking out over the darkening horizon together. The Splintercat was useful as both an early warning system and fierce fighter against the lesser evils that were drawn to the energies of the house. Strange gave Desmond a scratch behind one ear and the beast bumped against his thigh companionably as the sorcerer floated them both down to the front lawn.

The front door opened and Sydney looked out, rolling her head from side to side. 

“Baby’s dropped,” she told him as he made his way up the porch steps. Slightly alarmed, Strange automatically reached out for her rounded stomach and she slid her hands over his, managing a strained smile.

“So our child is due within a fortnight,” He murmured, thinking rapidly. “At . . . the new moon.”

Sydney nodded. “Yep, darkest night of the month. I realized that too. Maybe the birth will happen in the daytime.”

“With _our_ luck . . .” he gave her a wry glance and she smirked against her will.

“Yeah. Still, I can breathe now, and Bump seems to be happier too, so there’s that.”

“Probably ready after all this time,” Strange agreed, rubbing the curve lightly. “ _More_ than ready.”

“Wipe your feet,” Sydney chided as he moved to enter the house.

The nesting instinct had kicked in, and the urge to clean had gone into overdrive for his beloved. Strange had caught her polishing the mailbox at one point and taken the cloth from her, shaking his head.

“At least limit it to inside the house,” he’d told Sydney, “and let the great outdoors fend for _itself,_ my sweet. At this rate you’ll be demanding Desmond wear booties.”

She looked as if she might consider it, and then grinned.

Since then she’d been less intense but there were still moments when Strange simply sighed, like now.

“So the nursery’s nearly done and I’m waiting on the curtains; Wilhelmina and I have another Lamaze session tonight.”

Strange reached for Sydney, taking her in his arms. It still hurt that he wasn’t the one coaching her, the one helping her through the birth.

“You _know_ it makes sense for you to be free to fight, if needed,” Sydney had urged. “I know you’ll be nearby. If we’re both . . . preoccupied, it’s a danger to _all_ of us. ‘Mina knows what she’s doing and I trust her. I know you do too.”

“It galls me,” he admitted. “I don’t resent her, I resent that it’s even _necessary_ for me to be away from you during one of the most important moments of our lives.”

“Yes,” she agreed, “I feel the same way, but you know we _have_ to do it this way, like it or not.” Sydney brushed back his forelock and kissed his nose; an action Strange permitted despite the lack of dignity in it. “The pizza should be coming pretty soon.”

“Dare I ask what toppings are on it this time?”

“You can always pick the marshmallows off, you know,” came her tease. When he looked up, slightly wary, Sydney giggled. “Just teasing, although it’s got the A word and I ordered extra.”

They had to avoid saying ‘anchovies’ aloud; Desmond was intelligent enough to recognize it. Ordering extra was a matter of self-preservation.

“Ah, well since he’s already had an appetizer of bone bats, he’ll be smug this evening.”

“Good!” Sydney grinned.

“Breathe innnnnn” Wilhelmina ordered quietly. “Focus on your breath, draw as much as you can . . .”

Strange could hear them in the living room. He looked up from where he was concentrating.

“And ouuuuuut,” came the direction. “Slowly, like a leaking balloon.”

“Speaking of leaking . . .”

“We can take a bathroom break, sure.”

He came in as Sydney went out, the two of them bumping as they stepped past each other in the doorway. Wilhelmina was on the ottoman, stroking Desmond; she looked up at Strange, her expression serious.

“How soon?” he asked quietly.

“Honestly? Any time. She’s had some strong Braxton-Hicks these past weeks, and every time she goes to the bathroom I know she’s checking for bloody show, so . . .” Wilhelmina gave a shrug. “Are you two _sure_ about a home birth?”

Strange pursed his mouth. “We must keep the risk to others at a minimum and this is the best way.”

Wilhelmina nodded. “True, although I’m not entirely comfortable with it, but that’s just my age I suppose.”

He looked at her fondly. “You are going to outlive us _all_ , Wilhelmina Mayfair.”

She snorted but relaxed a little too, which had been his intention. “Where is Mr. Wong?”

“Called away,” Strange told her. “And unhappy about it, but the Gates of T’uvv need reinforcing for the time being. He will return as soon as they’re safe.”

“Fair enough—” Wilhelmina was cut off by a loud groan. She and Strange looked towards the doorway where Sydney was leaning, her expression annoyed.

He lurched to her, arms out. “Beloved—”

“That one _hurt_ ,” she announced. “A lot.”

Wilhelmina checked her watch. “All right, let’s keep track, although I suspect it’s early in the game.”

It was. The rest of the night passed peacefully, and Sydney had a few more contractions but they were still far apart. She and Wilhelmina hung the nursery curtains, waving away Strange’s offer to do it with magic.

“I need the distraction,” Sydney told him. “Especially now.”

He himself felt useless. Strange hadn’t felt this way in years, and it was hard not to brood. Instead, he occupied himself with plotting out a garden. Sydney had asked for is input, and he mapped out a tiered planter box system close to the kitchen door. It was simple work but satisfying too, and Strange had just finished the blueprint when Wilhelmina came to him, her expression wry.

“Moving into the first stage, Stephen; she’s having cramps about twenty minutes apart now. I want her to rest.”

He nodded, and followed Wilhelmina up the stairs to the nursery. The bedroom adjoining the master bathroom had been transformed with clouds, raindrops and little yellow ducks as the decor. Strange tolerated it, well aware that there were other themes far more obnoxiously cute that Sydney could have chosen. She was in the rocker there, scowling at her cell phone, looking up when he entered.

“The software for the home weather station seems to be on the fritz,” she growled. “The readings are waaaay off, and I need to let the station know---”

“--You need to go _lie down_ ,” Strange told her firmly. “Let the station contact NOAA on their own. You have more important issues at hand.”

She started to argue but it turned into a gasp as she leaned forward, pressing her belly. Strange helped her up, slipping his arm around her and letting energy flow soothingly along her skin as he did so.

“Okay, okay,” Sydney grumped, leaning on him as they moved through the bathroom. “Oh, um, pit-stop please.”

He stepped out and busied himself pulling the coverlet back on the bed. Strange allowed himself a moment of glad anticipation, feeling oddly giddy. Fatherhood . . . he would soon be a father. The entire concept seemed tinted in joy.  
The toilet flushed. Turning, he saw Sydney open the door and waddle out, looking pained.

“Maaaaybe lying down would be good,” she agreed. He helped her into bed, taking his time to make Sydney comfortable, kissing her before he himself sat on the edge of the bed.

“Rest,” he told her, “As best you can. It’s daylight and all of us need our energy for later. How do you feel?”

“Excited and scared and nervous and relieved,” she blurted with a grin. “If it wasn’t for an inter-dimensional monster hunting us I’d be completely thrilled!”

“Likewise,” Strange admitted. “I never thought . . . that I would be a father. I’d considered it in my early years but given the path my life has taken, I believed the opportunity had passed me. I’m grateful, my sweet, that with your love it has not.”

She smiled at him. “Come lie down with me for a little bit.”  
He did.

\--oo00oo—

By mid-afternoon the contractions were closer and Mina had started checking Sydney’s dilation periodically. Strange watched the skies, which were streaked with red and darkening. The ozone in the air had a tint of mildew to it; a scent like bad pond water brought up from the depths and even Desmond was fretful.

Strange sensed the Darkness was trying to hurry the end of day through atmospheric means; to bring on the night early for psychological advantage. While Sydney could counter that around the house if she was at full strength, her current incapacitation meant that the sun would be blocked out well before it would set this evening.

He closed his eyes, sending his focus out and found a barrier around the edge of the city, like a wall of cloud that was drifting in relentlessly.

_“Zzthlantvvos’thooor,_ ” Strange murmured, and the rumble of his words flared in a ring around the house. 

The clouds thinned a bit.

Satisfied for the moment, Strange gathered up Desmond with a little ‘oof,’ and carried the heavy feline to the porch.

“Why?” Strange murmured to him as he sat on the topmost step and petted Desmond. “Why _this_ child? I have been looking into this question since Sydney and I conceived the baby. Why is the Darkness so determined to devour this _particular_ one?”

To his credit, Desmond actually looked at him, as if waiting for the answer.

“And the reason must be that this child when grown will have the capacity to _defeat_ the Darkness. Guesswork, yes, but it holds logic. We don’t know if the dimension we found the entity in was even its original dimension. If it was _placed_ there, then the others of its kind may be gone. If it escaped there on its own that is impressive too. In either case, the Darkness seems _desperate_ to obliterate this entity.”

Desmond purred, allowing Strange to scratch under his furry chin.

“The Darkness’s capacity to exist in this plane must be _limited_ , or it would have attacked long before this. I would guess that it can only move during the night and has been making forays into my beloved’s dreams in little expeditions to find her weaknesses.”

Strange glanced once more to the heavy and oppressive layer of clouds above them. “The process of being born is traumatic enough, and I hope our child understands their battle may begin the moment he or she comes into this dimension.”

He waited and kept watch.


	17. Chapter 17

It hurt. Sydney knew it would, but it was also familiar pain, much like menstrual cramps. The thing that had scared her about giving birth was the thought of pain, but this type was something she knew she could handle. That being said, they were coming faster now, and harder, bending her double at times and leaving her achy and miserable.

She walked around the house trying to catch her breath, and each time she returned to Mina in the bedroom, the doctor nodded.

“Moving into active labor,” came the quiet observation. “How do you feel?”

“Cranky,” Sydney admitted. “And thirsty.”

“Let’s get you some ice chips and then back into bed with you,” Mina told her. “I want to check on your dilation.”

“Again?” Sydney didn’t want to whine but it slipped out. Fortunately her doctor didn’t take it personally.

“Again.”

_She’s doing it on purpose you know. Just to piss you off._

Startled, Sydney looked around. “What?”

“I said again,” Mina repeated patiently. “You were at five centimeters and I’m betting it’s larger now.”

“Ah, yes, I heard _that_ part,” Sydney followed Mina into the kitchen and obediently accepted the cup of ice. “I just thought I heard something else.”

“Might be the trees,” Mina glanced out one of the windows. “Getting darker with all that cloud cover.”

Sydney sucked on a cube, fretting. The barometer was dropping far too quickly and the awful stillness was working on her nerves. Out of curiosity she tried pulling moisture from the air and found it heavy.

And foul.

“Gross,” she muttered, casting it away towards the snake plant, where it splashed dankly.

Another rolling cramp hit, and she chuffed a bit. Mina slipped an arm around her and led her to the stairs. “Okay, up we go and I don’t think we’re coming back down before the baby’s born.”

A sliver of fear went through Sydney but she made her way up, pulling on the railing to do so.

_You think this hurts? You got a LOT more coming, Squid._

Shit. Sydney shook her head.

“Mina, once we’re up here, please get Stephen,” she huffed, toddling towards the octagon bedroom. “I think I know what’s going on.”

Mina caught the look on Sydney’s face and nodded.

The minute she left the room, Sydney heard the voice again.

_Just what I expected from you. Unmarried, pregnant and whining about how much pain you’re in. What a fucking disappointment you are. But then you always WERE._

“You’re not real,” Sydney muttered. “Shut up.”

The only answer was a malicious chuckle.

The sound of Strange running up the stairs made Sydney smile briefly; he must be preoccupied if he’d forgotten he could teleport. He moved to the side of the bed, reaching to brush her face. “Beloved.”

“Hi. So I’m hearing my mother’s voice,” Sydney informed him, fighting against a particularly strong contraction. “And since she died about fifteen years ago, this is sort of _nnnnot_ what I need right now.”

“Mind games,” Strange agreed. “The Darkness knows how best to distract you from what you must do.”

“The form has been chosen,” Sydney misquoted and winced, rubbing her forehead. “Great. Any chance of shutting her up?”

Strange pulled the little vanity stool closer to the bed and reached a hand to Sydney’s temple as she grunted a little. Mina came around to her other side and took her pulse.

“Will you let me into your thoughts?” Strange asked, ever polite.

“Come on in,” Sydney sighed. “You’ve been there before.”

“Prepare yourself for some pain,” Mina warned him.

Sydney felt Strange’s presence slip in; she saw him flinch a bit before she closed her eyes.

_“Wipe your feet,” she teased._

_They stood together on a platform, drifting through thin streams of thought weaving around them. Most of the streams were tinged with red, and pulsed._

_I didn’t realize you were in so MUCH pain,” Strange replied, chastened._

_“Necessary,” Sydney told him. “I’m glad you’re here.”_

_“As am I.”_

_“Isn’t that just fucking precious?” came a voice beyond them. “Twu wuv.”_

_Strange looked at Sydney and she gave a pained sigh. “Yeah she was always that sarcastic, in case you were wondering where I get it from.”_

_“My condolences,” Strange murmured._

_“As if you really care,” came the distant sneer. “Nice try.”_

_Strange took one of Sydney’s hands in his own. She squeezed it in return._

_“So, I’m a little busy right now, Mom. I don’t suppose you’d go take a flying fuck at the moon or something,” Sydney called out, her voice wavering ever so slightly. “Just for shits and giggles.”_

_Nothing. She looked at Strange, who was frowning as he looked around, his eyes glowing slightly._

_“It’s seeping in. Concentrate on the labor, my sweet. She wants you to panic, and lose control. Time in here is accelerated.”_

_Then came a small quiet musing tone._

_“I almost died having you. Blood loss. Nearly bled out, Squid. Ugly painful way to go. Women still die in childbirth, especially when they’re not near a hospital, and all you’ve got is an old woman taking care of you. A very TIRED old woman. Anything could happen to her and then where would you be?”_

_“I’m FINE,” Sydney gritted her teeth, crouching forward. “And you’re not welcome here by the way. Don’t vampires have to be invited in?”_

_“I was ALWAYS here,” the voice gloated. “You know that, and no fancy fucker in a cape can change it. He knocked you up just to get his rocks off, you know. He’s going to leave you. Probably when you’re in too much pain to stop him.”_

_“I think not,” Strange growled, pulling off his cape and wrapping Sydney in it. “SHOW yourself.”_

_Reluctantly a form took shape in the air, coalescing from dark strands of twisting blackness. A woman, gaunt and haggard. She wore a frilly low-cut blouse with stains on it, and cheap polyester slacks. Smoke rose from the cigarette in one long-nailed hand, and her eyes were dark red holes in her lean face framed by a Seventies shag haircut. She smiled, showing yellow teeth. “Lenore Todd, Stevie. I’m not afraid of you and your cheap light show.”_

_Strange flexed his hands and energy surged out, shooting towards the figure, passing through it._

_Sydney screamed; the Darkness laughed again as Strange froze, realizing what he’d done._

_“Good one! Another shot like that and Squidney here will probably stroke out!” Lenore/Darkness cackled. “We’re in her MIND, Shithead Supreme.”_

_Strange spun to look at Sydney wrapped in the cape. “Beloved--”_

_“I’m . . . okay,” Sydney gasped, eyes closed tightly. “Just . . . be careful.”_

_“Yes,” Strange assured her, and she felt better._

_“Enough of this crap,” Lenore/Darkness growled. “I want the kid, and since you’re not going to give it up, I’ll just have to take it.”_

_“Over my dead body, you hag-BITCH,” Sydney snapped, all the old resentments and anger rising up. Around them the wisps of thought went dark red._

_“If that’s what it takes,” came the reply. “SO easy.”_

_She choked. Sydney tried to draw a breath and found herself struggling, unable to pull any air into her lungs. Strange reached over and placed a hand on her face, covering her nose and mouth; under the flare of his magic Sydney felt air flow again and gulped it in gratefully._

_“I’ve got other ways,” Lenore/Darkness pointed out. “Being in here gives me access to all these delicate systems you know. Nerves, blood, muscles . . . Let’s crank up that pain, Squid. I know how much you love THAT.”_

_Strange twisted his fingers. “Bands of Cyttorak!” Long crimson threads wrapped around the gaunt figure, entangling it in gleaming coils. Lenore/Darkness struggled, eye-sockets flaring red, but as it did so the threads tightened and she let loose a blast of profanity._

_Sydney sighed with relief, but it was short-lived as another wave of heavy agony rippled through the dimension. Dimly they heard Wilhelmina calling, “Bear down, Sydney!”_

_She did, clutching the cape and hunching over._

_In front of them, Lenore/Darkness gave an ugly laugh. “Hear that fear in her voice? It’s not going well is it, Squid?”_

_“Sh-sh-SHUT UP!”_

_“Hurts doesn’t it? Getting all ripped up down there?”_

_She saw Strange drift closer to her mother and the way he studied Lenore/Darkness gave her a sense of hope._

_“Why?” he asked, his voice deep and steady. “Why do you want this child?”_

_“Why do YOU care?” she snarled, fighting against the bands. “This never was YOUR business anyway, Stevie.”_

_“I was sought out,” Sydney heard him say even as she fought with another hard contraction. For a moment she couldn’t do anything but concentrate on the painful squeeze through her abdomen, the burn between her thighs._

_So tired now._

_Everything hurt and she felt herself slowly sobbing. Wilhelmina’s voice was very faint and Sydney couldn’t make out the words at all._

_“It had no right!” Lenore/Darkness growled. “The Light. Without it I’ll die forever. It’s mine to devour each time and live again, the way of our cycle for eons! The Dark eats the Light! Its only purpose is to give me LIFE!”_

_“Nnnnnno!” Sydney managed, looking up from the nest of the cape around her. “One being, ONE LIFE! You don’t get to take anybody eeeeelse’s life, Mom! Not mine and not that. . . of . . . this . . . baby!!”_

_Strange drew in a deep breath. Dimly Sydney saw him shoot her a long bleak glance before turning back to the monster in front of him. “All-seeing Agamotto!” He reached out his hands, cupping them against Lenore/Darkness’s head. The minute he touched her, they both glowed—_

_And disappeared._

Sydney opened her eyes, blinking hard through the tears, exhausted and suddenly chilled to the bone. Sunrise was just gleaming through the windows of the octagon bedroom. She looked up at Wilhelmina who carried something to her and set a warm weight on her chest. A weight wrapped in a towel.

“We did it, at last! Are you strong enough to hold him?” 

A tired giggle slipped out, and Sydney slipped one arm around the bundle. Little nose, closed eyes, ruddy face. “Oh hell yes. Stephen! We’ve got a son! Stephen?”

“Stephen?” She looked around fearfully. “STEPHEN?”


	18. Chapter 18

_The Journal of Stephen Strange_

_Moon phase: undetermined at the moment._

_It was clear to me that I had to remove the Darkness from my beloved’s mind as soon as possible and took it upon myself to do so. Currently the Darkness and I are in a pocket dimension while I hope and pray that Sydney gives birth without any further psychic trauma. Unfortunately, I am compelled to stay with this creature for the duration. It annoys me that it continues to use the persona of Lenore Todd._

_The Bands of Cyttorak are weakening and I know I must find a way to defeat this monster._

“I’ll kill you and make my way back,” Lenore/Darkness hissed. “You think you’ve won by shifting us elsewhere but it’s temporary, I assure you, Stevie.”

They floated in a murky space filled with gelatinous matter that distorted everything in it.

“Are you _genuinely_ this repulsive, or is it just being filtered through the ghost?” Strange asked. He stood with his arms crossed, watching the creature struggle as the bands of energy were beginning to fade.

“She’s a magnificent mouthpiece,” came the snarl. “Our thoughts run parallel.”

“Pity,” Strange sighed. “I had hoped there was something redeemable in her.”

A quick and fleeting expression of regret flicked across Lenore/Darkness’s face. “If there ever was, it died decades ago. She—we—prefer our strength.” So saying the bands finally flickered away, and Strange braced himself for the attack that was sure to come.

Lenore/Darkness lunged for him, clawed nails attempting to rake his face but Strange solidified, turning himself into metal. The Darkness collided with him and bounced away, howling in rage. It shifted to metal as well, but Strange went vaporous this time.  
The attacks went on and Strange countered each, occasionally being clawed, but watching the Darkness weaken with each one. He saw it grow tired but knew enough not to let his guard down even as he realized the Darkness wasn’t used to fighting.

“So you hunt the Light when it’s small,” he mused. “You seek it out when you are the larger. What happens when the light matches you, or is greater than you?”

The Darkness didn’t reply, which was answer enough in itself. Strange nodded to himself.

“So you never _let_ it get any bigger. You hunt the Light from the very beginning and devour it before it ever has a chance.”

“Strength is survival,” came the growl.

“To be strong is one thing; to do it through Darkness is your own demise,” Strange replied. “You chose cruelty to make yourself strong over someone smaller than you, Lenore. No wonder the Darkness appreciates your form.”

She hissed again, the red eye sockets flaring in renewed bad temper. “As if _you_ have a right to talk about cruelty? How much is in your _own_ past, Stevie? The people _you’ve_ hurt, the pain _you’ve_ caused? Your _own_ brother and sister, dead by your failure and callousness!”

“Yes,” Strange acknowledged quietly. “I carry that within me.”

“You’ve always thought yourself better than others and pushed them aside for your own agenda,” Lenore/Darkness reminded him snidely. “And _I_ know even if Squid doesn’t, that you’re _terrified_ you’re going to fuck up fatherhood.”

Strange’s jaw tightened. “Yes.”

“You’re no better than _I_ am!” she crowed, drifting towards him, muscles tensing for another attack.

“I _acknowledge_ the darkness in myself,” Strange said slowly, dragging the words out. “But the difference between us is that I see it for what it is. And I see it with _**L/I/G/H/T.**_ ”

Behind him, on the horizon of the pocket plane sunlight poured in, bright and strong, dissolving the thick atmosphere with dazzling rays. In panic, the Darkness scuttled forward, desperately hiding in the umbra of Strange’s shadow, which was the only place providing shelter. The wavering light made a sharp edge to Strange’s outline against the sky.

“Mercy!” Lenore/Darkness cried out, voice croaky now. “You will destroy me!”

“No,” Strange shot back. “I’ve bested you--for the moment. It is not _MY_ destiny to defeat you.”

He twisted his hands and at the same time let a string of strange sounds slip from his lips. The syllables rose and grew, covering the Darkness in a thin black veneer with an oily sheen to it. 

Lenore/Darkness twisted but couldn’t escape; soon it was completely encased within. Strange drifted over and laid a hand on the crouched figure.

“The Pall of Pssalnavor will cover you, keeping the sun from you here in this plane, ever strengthened by the light. Gradually you will drift away and break free . . . millennia from now. _That_ is my mercy.”

Lenore/Darkness cursed, the profanity laced with fear and rage. “Damned are _you_ and those you _love_ , Stephen Strange. I will abide and find my revenge on your line from now until _all_ of yours lie _dead_ between my teeth!”

“You will try,” Strange agreed. “But there are many possible futures for them, and when I look at _yours_ . . .” his voice trailed off and one corner of his mouth went up, ever so slightly. “Fear the Light, Lenore—inexorably, it is coming for _YOU_.”

Summoning the last of his strength, Strange concentrated, phasing himself out of the pocket dimension through the empty chill of the continuum. It took several hours, and when he finally solidified once more the warmth felt like a blanket. He sagged forward, catching the frame of the doorway, looking to see Sydney sitting up against the headboard of the bed, a swaddled little form in her arms.

She looked at him, her concerned, loving gaze saying more than words.

“Welcome back,” Sydney managed, her voice shaky. “Are you okay?”

He staggered forward a bit, coming to rest against the edge of the mattress. After a moment he reached his hands out to the baby she held. Sydney let him take the child and Strange looked down at the little one, studying the small serious face that gazed up at him. A sense of quiet joy filled Strange and he brought the baby up closer, gently kissing his small forehead.

“Caleb my child,” he whispered. “It’s good to finally meet you.”

\--oo00oo—

For the next three days all of them rested. Strange slept deeply for the first time in months. He rose hours later to enjoy time in meditation and in holding both Caleb and Sydney. Wilhelmina headed home for rest herself after promising a return home visit in a week, and Desmond prowled about as if aware of his elevated status as guardian. 

The baby intrigued him, and Desmond settled at the foot of the bassinet much of the time, purring loudly. Whenever Caleb cried, which wasn’t often, Desmond paced restlessly until either Strange or Sydney managed to soothe the baby.

Strange found his son fascinating. The snub nose and cupid’s bow mouth; the gnome-like face and little wrinkled body amused him, but more than that, their psychic connection was now stronger and Strange could sense his son’s moods effortlessly, as could Sydney.

“He’s making this really _easy_ ,” she told Strange with a grin. “I mean I really _can_ tell if he’s wet or hungry or tired without having to guess. And when he’s in a good mood . . .”

Strange smiled. “He’s a delight, I agree. A very personable infant.”

“He’s a sweetheart,” Sydney agreed. “And he’s got your chin I think.”

“A bit too early to tell,” Strange countered, “Although he looks to be heterochromatic, my sweet—one grey eye, one green eye.”

“Wow, really?” Sydney looked down at the baby, who lay on the bed between them, waving his little fists. “I thought eye color didn’t settle until they’re older.”

“Perhaps he simply couldn’t choose between yours and mine, so he selected once of each,” Strange pointed out as he let Caleb grip his index finger. “A striking compromise.”

They said nothing for a while, simply playing gently with their son, but when he grew sleepy, Sydney settled him into the bassinet and then turned to Strange, her expression serious. “Okay. Tell me exactly what happened.”

Strange did. Sydney listened and when he was done, she gave a deep sigh, her gaze stern. “So it’s _not_ dead, it’s just wrapped up in mystical Saran Wrap and floating in space?”

He gave her a dry and loving look. “Your way with words never fails to astound me, but yes, that would be the gist of it.”

“Why didn’t you just . . . step aside and let the sunshine do its work?” she demanded with real anger in her voice. “ _Why_?”

Strange caught her chin and gazed into her face. “Because despite its fears, mere sunlight would not have killed it and I do _not_ have the ability, my beloved. Strong and powerful as I am, my powers cannot channel the sort of Light that is necessary to obliterate that particular Darkness. I am not of the realm where it was created and dwelt . . .”

“Oh fuck. But Caleb _is_ ,” Sydney gulped. “Or will be. So what you’re saying that eventually HE is going to have to face off with that damned thing?”

Strange nodded. “I’m afraid so. But we know it now and can help prepare him for that confrontation when it comes. In the meantime it will be at least a lifetime before any of us need worry about it.”

“Rrright,” Sydney grumbled but she reached for him and snuggled into his embrace. Strange held her, comforted by her warmth and lovely scent. “Well I suppose on the bright side, you’ve helped me get rid of my mother’s ghost, so there’s that.”

“The odious Lenore,” Strange agreed. Does it bother you when I say your full name, with hers being part of yours?”

“Nah,” Sydney assured him. “The way _you_ say it . . .” she smiled at him. “I never much liked my middle name but coming from you it’s very intimate.”

“Sydney,” Strange murmured, brushing his lips along her hairline. “I would very much like to marry you now that our son is born. You are precious to me and although I cannot promise that our life together will always be safe or sane—"

She cut him off with a kiss. “Those are _so_ overrated. I love you. I’ve loved you for a long time and didn’t want to admit it even to myself. So, yes, make me Strange too.”

He laughed. “Stephen and Sydney Strange. Very alliterative of us.”

“Stephen and Sydney Strange of Seattle,” she responded, “and parts of Manhattan I suppose.”

“I’m in no particular rush to return,” Strange admitted. “This city has more than enough to keep my attention.” He rose and went around to the bassinet, reaching down to touch the baby’s cheek. “Thank you, Sydney, for bearing him and for putting up with me in the process.”

She gave him a smile. “I thought we were creating a baby but it’s so more than that, yeah.”

“It is indeed,” Strange replied, shooting her a tender look. “It is indeed.”


	19. Chapter 19

_Almost balmy, overcast in the morning. So Stephen and I are getting married. This is terrifying me a little bit because I never ever thought I would get married. I’m not the marrying type, really—I’m too bossy and too set in my ways most of the time. But for some reason those traits are fine with Stephen, so who am I to argue? He’s absolutely serene about it all. The serene Sorcerer Supreme. Drives me crazy with the way he takes everything from dirty diapers to spit-up without a problem.  
Damn it, I’m so in love with the man._

“And so you were born on Walpurgis, which is significant,” Strange murmured to the baby against his shoulder. “You have ties to the magic of this planet.”

Sydney looked through the doorway of her office to watch him slowly pace with Caleb. The baby—now six weeks old-- was in a moon and stars onesie, tiny hands splayed against the dishtowel on his father’s shoulder. “Has he burped yet?”

“Not yet,” Strange replied, stroking his son’s back. “Although--”

As if on cue, Caleb gave a kick and belched, a thin white stream trickling from his bottom lip. He wiggled, clearly pleased with himself, and Strange rumbled a chuckle as well. “Well done. I’m sure they heard you as far as Elliot Bay, my child.”

Sydney rose and came over, using the end of the towel to wipe the baby’s mouth. He lifted his head to look at her, eyes bright. “Messy boy,” she teased lovingly. “Feel better?”

It was clear he did; Strange turned and shifted Caleb into his arms. The baby gave a contented sigh, looking back up at them.

“Naptime,” Sydney announced. They walked the baby up to the bedroom and set him into his bassinet before slipping out again quietly.

“So about tomorrow . . .” Sydney sighed, going down the staircase. “I’m not sure I’m ready for this.”

“Second thoughts, or merely butterflies?” Strange asked earnestly, following her to the kitchen and turning on the baby monitor.

“The latter,” she admitted. “I’m pretty set on marrying you, but I’m nervous about it.”

“I believe that’s a normal reaction for everyone at this point. I myself have a few qualms, mostly for the safety of you and Caleb.”

“I know. You do have a number of enemies,” she acknowledged. “Serious ones and while I can take care of myself . . .”

“True,” Strange murmured. “But do not underestimate our son. He’s already shown signs of mystical capacity even at this early stage. I’ve seen him watch ghosts.”

“Ghosts?” Sydney glanced around. “We have _ghosts_?”

“Mostly psychic remnants of pets long past,” Strange assured her, “small and non-threatening. My point however, is that our son even now is developing his own powers. Who better to raise him than the two of us? There will _always_ be threats, my sweet—we can’t escape that—but together we are more powerful than apart.” He moved behind her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. “And selfishly, I love you both to an astonishing degree.”

Sydney leaned back against him, feeling ridiculously shy. “It’s mutual,” she murmured, loving the feel of his chest against her spine, warm and strong.

“Midsummer’s day afternoon is decidedly auspicious,” Strange told her, “in the Zen garden of the Arboretum makes for a peaceful setting, I think.”

“Sounds perfect,” Sydney hummed happily.

\--oo00oo—

The wedding was intimate, with only a handful of friends attending, but Sydney was fine with that. Naturally her teammates were there, looking uncomfortable in their best clothes, standing together as if they expected some sort of attack. The friends Stephen invited were interesting as well: Wong of course, and Wilhelmina along with two young men and a little old gentleman who seemed to be giving the obstetrician flirtatious looks.

Sydney had chosen a simple dress of green silk with lace sleeves and had foregone the bouquet. She’d pinned her hair up and tucked a few sprigs of wisteria in it to dangle. Strange looked austerely handsome in a Nehru jacket of rich fawn with silver lining and matching trousers. 

The Buddhist officiate was a charming little woman from the Sakya monastery who was standing serenely under the canopy of the willow tree, lighting the incense sticks. She was dressed in long wine-colored robes, her shaved head gleaming in the sunshine. Her name was Ani; Sydney had met with her during the initial planning visit and liked her very much. 

“Let us draw near,” she called out in a low voice like the chime of a bell in the warmth of the afternoon. “हामी यो दिन मनाउन.” 

The rhythm of the words and the easy inclination of Ani’s gestures made the ceremony easy to follow. It helped too, that she and Strange had rehearsed it so Sydney understood the gifts of flowers and fruit; the reason behind handing the beautiful katag to Ani with a bow, and her gift in return of another to her and Strange. Ani wrapped them in the long silk scarf, draping it over their shoulders where the blue tinted silk gleamed. She reminded them of the work a marriage takes; of the shared blessings and burdens that would bring them closer through the years. Ani also commended them on their fortuitous birthdays and how truly destined they were for this journey together.

Strange took her hand. Rings were not normally a part of the ceremony, but Sydney laced her fingers with his, and Strange concentrated, a brilliant glow flaring around their hands. After a moment wide bands of silver and sapphire gleamed from around both of their ring fingers; bone-deep multi-dimensional tattoos with a pattern of stars and clouds in it.

At the end of Ani’s final blessing Sydney shot her a glance and the Buddhist nun smirked. “Oh it’s all right,” she told them. “May this kiss be the first of thousands to be shared in your life together.”

That was permission enough; Sydney slipped into Strange’s arms and kissed him soundly, aware of the joyous energy that flowed brightly around and through them. Light personified, she realized.  
Their friends clapped and came forward for hugs, everyone caught up in the delight of the moment. Sydney found herself enfolded by her team and swept into a squeeze by Wilhelmina. She took Caleb from his carrier and he waved his fists excitedly. 

“He looks like you, sort of,” Jack said, studying the baby. “I mean if you were a baby and a guy.”

“Close enough,” Sydney laughed.

Everyone settled around the tables near the pond to enjoy the catered picnic of delicacies while Sydney and Strange stood off a ways with Ani, who took Caleb in her arms.

“A blessing,” she murmured quietly. “This little one has true destiny before him, and already carries much courageous love. May I, Yon dag?”

Strange inclined his head, and the little Buddhist nun pulled out a small katag of sky blue, draping it over Caleb. “दुनिया बीच शान्ति, सानो एक हिंड्न। बल र आनन्द पूरा।” She intoned, touching his forehead, nose and chin through the veil. Caleb wrigged a bit and cooed.

At that moment a cloud of pearl butterflies appeared out of nowhere, fluttering like white rose petals around the nun and the baby. Although startled, Ani smiled and held Caleb up. The butterflies lingered for a moment and dispersed as Sydney took the baby and cradled him closely. Strange carefully folded the katag, thanked Ani in Nepalese and invited her to join in the picnic before turning to Sydney and Caleb.

“ _That_ was mysteriously beautiful,” Sydney admitted. “Good thing Desmond didn’t see them or the chase would have been on.”

“Possibly,” Strange agreed, “Although I believe they were spiritual manifestations rather than actual insects. Good wishes from unseen dimensions.”

She gave him a skeptical look and then glanced down at the baby in her arms. “No playdates in other realms, okay? Not _yet_ , little man.”

Caleb yawned.

\--oo00oo—

They left the baby with Wilhelmina for the night, along with several refrigerated bottles of breast milk and a hand-written regimen to follow that the doctor rolled her eyes over.

“I’ve taken care of dozens of infants,” she reminded them. “I think I can handle yours just as well if not better. Go, have a lovely honeymoon night while Caleb and I watch some good British mysteries.”

It was difficult for her to leave, but Strange assured her they’d be close enough to pop back if needed. She hadn’t realized how literally he meant that until he wrapped his arms around her and they faded away out of the kitchen to re-appear in a large circular room of stone complete with carpets, fireplace and a large four poster bed.

Sydney glanced down; she was still in her wedding dress. “Wow, not naked!”

“Yet,” Strange murmured with a predatory hint in his voice. He loosened his grip and watched her look around. “We are at the top of a lost tower built by Normans in the 11th century and transported here to one of my favorite retreats.”

“Where is it?”

He nuzzled her neck. “An alternate Earth where there are no humans. Verdant and secluded.”

“Very nice, you wizard you,” Sydney teased.

“Wizard,” he shook his head. “Wizards pursue knowledge. Sorcerers pursue _other_ matters.” To prove his point Strange tugged the zipper of her dress down her spine. Sydney shivered delightedly.

“Does this mean you’re interested in consummating this marriage?” she purred, reaching to undo his jacket.

“Interested is perhaps understating the case,” Strange assured her. “ _Determined_ might be a better choice.”

“Ah,” she tried not to laugh as she managed to help him out of the jacket and began working on his slacks zipper.

“I love you,” Strange lifted her chin with his index finger, making her look into his gaze. “I have missed worshiping your body with mine.”

Sydney blinked, feeling a little breathless. “Me too,” she told him, moving to kiss the corner of his goatee. “With you I am safe and loved and very happy, beloved mine.”

She saw that her words moved him; he cupped her face and looked at her with a gaze she knew he would never share with anyone else. 

Although they were both eager, they took their time in undressing, kissing and caressing as they did so. Sydney luxuriated in the warm of his skin, the clean masculine scent of Strange mingled with incense and cologne. By the light of the fireplace she reacquainted herself with his rangy frame, trailing kisses over it. He returned the favor, being careful of her sensitive breasts.

“Still fond of them,” he told her, “even if they’ve gone from decorative to functional.”

Sydney preened a bit. “Never thought I’d find a use for them myself, but I’m glad I did.” 

He chuckled but it turned into a groan as she slipped her fingers around his erection, caressing the warm and turgid length of it. “Speaking decorative to functional . . . .”

“You have no _idea_ how glad I am not to be the only impatient one,” Strange muttered even as he bent to scoop her up; she protested but gave in when he made it clear he was going to do it anyway. Three long strides and they were at the four poster. 

Strange laid her on the bed carefully and Sydney scooted over so he had room to stretch out himself.  
They rolled together and kissed, entwining limbs eagerly. Sydney raked her fingers along his temples, delighted to rumple the silver streaks there. Strange let her, his own hands sliding possessively along her back. She straddled him, kissing his chest from nipple to nipple, delighted at his quickened breathing and glazed look. “We’ll go gently,” Sydney assured him, “But I want you, please.”

Strange nodded, shifting to help support her as Sydney reached down to guide his shaft into her. She impaled herself slowly, giving a delighted moan in chorus with his. He slid his hands to her hips, looking up at her with bright grey eyes. “Wife,” Strange murmured, and rocked his hips up.

Sydney leaned forward, bracing her hands against his shoulders, her long hair slithering over her own as she moved her hips against his. “Husbaaaaand,” she called out happily.

They found their rhythm, moving slowly at first to draw it out, but finally quickening as the pleasure built with each stroke. Sydney knew she wouldn’t last very long, not with Strange’s talented fingers and loving intensity. She felt her entire body begin to tense after a while, her breasts aching with pleasure as the slow sweet flare of orgasm rose through her making her call out his name as she shuddered hard.

And even here, the thunder boomed outside the hewn windows.

Her cry seemed to be enough to bring him to climax as well. Strange’s hands tightened on her hipbones and his chest heaved as he growled. He rocked up into her, driving deep and Sydney felt the heat of his semen inside her, a primitive and sweet sensation she savored.

She slumped forward, aware that her breasts were leaking and not caring a damn, not with Strange looking up at her in utter adoration, breathless and damp. “Oh gods and deities I adore you,” he confessed hoarsely. “That was . . . .”

“Gooooood,” Sydney agreed, and wiped a hand across her chest. “Sorry about the, ah, spray.”

“A blessing,” he told her, fishing for a corner of the sheet to help her dab it up. “Bounty from a goddess.”

She chuckled and shifted off of him, wincing a little as she came to curl up at his side to rest. “There’s a bath or a shower here too, right?”

“Anything you wish,” Strange assured her, pulling her close. “We have hours before we must return, and much to celebrate in that time. I have a wife and a son. I have a family,” he marveled.

“Me too,” Sydney murmured, kissing his shoulder. “One good deed ended up giving me so damned much—isn’t the world amazing?”

“Yes,” Strange told her, settling her against his side. “And so are you and Caleb. Rest . . . we have a future to face together, beloved.”

“I like that,” Sydney yawned, and snuggled closer. “Very much, Stephen.”

End

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Conception Point *~* FanArt *~*](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14871347) by [pumkinteacup](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pumkinteacup/pseuds/pumkinteacup)




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